The Me I Used To Be

I slide a bubbling vegetable pizza from the brick oven, scenting the kitchen's warm air with garlic.

"Allyson?" Joleen, my newest employee, though she's worked here four years, steps up beside me. "There's a lady at the register who wants to say hello."

As Joleen hurries back to work, I set the pizza on the work counter and turn. My heart slides to my toes at the sight of a young woman up front with long auburn hair. But then I realize it isn't this woman Joleen speaks of, but my neighbor Mary Keller, the blonde beside her.

Mary waves and calls, "Hi!"

I smile, wave back, then breathe again. I've been seeing them everywhere today. On my early morning run before breakfast. In the car next to mine at a light on the way into work. On the sidewalk outside the café when I opened up. Girls and young women with red hair, skin as pale as milk. They're all ages. Gurgling toddlers, gangly, gaptoothed preteens, laughing college students, stressed-out mothers approaching middle age.

Why am I startled each time I catch that flash of color so like autumn leaves? These girls, these women, have stalked me before. Many times. But a ... read full excerpt from: The Me I Used to Be ebook