Others said they had met a stranger.
Others said she was tired of her quiet little town and wanted a new life.
But his little brother, Noah, never believed it.
She was only seven years old when Lily disappeared. She was sixteen, sweet, quiet, and always smiled at him as if he were the most important person in the world.
Lily liked to sew small white flowers onto her clothes. Her mother, Margaret, had taught her. Three little flowers on her sleeves, on her bag, even on her old scarf.
Noah remembered the day he disappeared.
Rain against the windows.
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