Raid

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This book is dedicated to the memory of my Gramma, Mildred Moutaw.

She lived far away from me so I didn’t know her all that well.

But what I knew, I loved.

Gramma, your afghan is still on my couch.

It’s been to two countries, three cities.

It will always be with me.

And it’s exactly what you intended it to be.

Home. Warmth. Comfort. Nurture.

Love.

I sat in Rachelle’s Café. Today’s seat was facing the door.

I tried to switch it up so he wouldn’t know.

If my back was to the door, maybe one day, if he noticed me, he wouldn’t think I was looking for him, waiting, hoping for a glimpse.

Even though I was.

Raiden.

Raiden Ulysses Miller.

An amazing name for an amazing man.

The bell over the door rang, and having months of practice in not letting my hope and eagerness show, I slowly lifted my eyes to look, my heart skipping a beat.

It wasn’t him.

I brought my coffee cup to my lips and took a sip, hiding my disappointment.

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