A Taste of Spring

SPRING

Turning her phone off was the best thing for her sanity, but Spring still felt the urge to look at her call log to see who tried to contact her. She hoped that Dez realized that he made a huge mistake in dumping her and was calling to beg her to take him back.

The reality hit hard...two calls from Taylor, a half dozen calls from her Grams, and a dozen or more from Troy.

The calls from Taylor were of no importance. She wasn't interested in modeling or dating. Her grams just wanted to cheer her up. No doubt Summer told her about Dez. Dez, whose existence she didn't share with Grams because Grams was Pro-Troy. And Troy, who probably heard from Grams that she was nursing a broken heart that wasn't because of him. She didn't want to explain to Troy, for the hundredth time, that they were better off as friends. Troy was a great guy, but he wasn't her great guy.

What wasn't logged in her calls was a message from Summer. Which was odd because they talked at least four times a day.

As Spring climbed the apartment building stairs, she hit the home screen on her cell for the hundredth time. It was nine in the evening and no calls from Summer. Not even a text. She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder as she put her key in the main building door. The door swung open before she could turn the knob. The sudden jolt caused her key to fall out of the lock onto the doormat. She bent to get her keys as a figure rushed by, almost knocking her over.

she called as she focused on the black boots that descended the steps in an obvious hurry. She lifted her gaze to see which of their neighbors was the jerk but she could only see the back of what she assumed was a man wearing a loose hoodie rushing down the

"Jerk."

the threshold, forgetting that she was somewhat worried

few months and then suddenly not spending time with her, would leave a gaping hole of loneliness in his life. Like the hole that kept growing in hers. But...nope. Apparently, he was good. That angered her

herself and the mail up the flights of stairs with her head lowered. She didn't want to talk so she kept her head down as not to make eye contact with anyone. When she came to her door, she noticed the welcome mat was misaligned. Her

(Why...?)

was gone. She looked around the hallway. It was empty but not

with her foot, looking inside from the hallway. It was pitch black inside. Spring raised her arm and used her hand to feel around the wall for

simultaneous. The glow in the room showed

threshold. Another step inside made it possible to

glanced over her shoulder at the