The Composer
By Grant Grogan
A heart-shaped vise tightened in Heather’s chest as she walked the overgrown stone pathway. It was not so long ago that she was sneaking down this same path under a starlit sky, shoes in hand, with anticipation coursing through her like an electric current. A silly pop song that she hadn’t heard in years suddenly echoed in her mind, the soundtrack to that life she’d left behind. But things were different now. The owner of the house was dead. And though she felt guilty for it, Heather was glad.
This house belonged to Miriam Forte, and Mrs. Forte succumbed to cancer a few days ago. Heather went to her wake?not to pay her respects to Mrs. Forte (the old witch hated Heather, and the feeling was mutual) but to see Mrs. Forte’s son, Jameson. For nearly three years of high school, Jameson and Heather were a couple. They fit together so well that it was a foregone conclusion in many of their friends’ minds that they would get married, have kids, and live happily ever after. But Heather had the naïve idea that there was more to life than she could find in her hometown with her high school sweetheart.
