The Breakthrough

whump-whump-whump-whump The helicopter overhead was distant--the propeller's thumps a low murmur seeping into my mind, stirring up dread, thick and suffocating. I stood inside my grandmother's old house and gazed at the peeling yellowed paint on the walls and the layers upon layers of dusty photographs covering every inch. In one black and white photo, a young pig-tailed girl's face beamed, sitting on her father's knee, her face forever frozen …

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