Tabitha Stay With Me [better] -

This time, she does.

Tabitha, stay with me.

The rain doesn't knock anymore. It just starts—a sudden, heavy curtain that turns the driveway into a river of loose gravel and last autumn’s leaves. I am standing in the open doorway, the screen door whining on its hinge, and I am saying it again. tabitha stay with me

“Please,” I say, and my voice cracks on the second syllable. I step onto the porch, the wet wood cold through my socks. I don’t have shoes on. I didn’t think to get shoes. “Tabitha. Just come back inside. We can—we can talk about it. We can talk about anything. Just stay.” This time, she does