Echoes of a stranger

of crickets. Khloe always found solace in her childhood home. The worn picket fence, the bright yellow curtains her mothe

om her in the cozy kitchen. A steaming cup of tea rested between her hands. "You'

, Mom. Work's just been exhausting,

tle. "You've always been a hard worker, but you're also my daughter. Remem

oss the table to squeeze her mother's han

back at the warm glow spilling from the kitchen window. For a brief moment, she conside

-

Mir

pers. "She hasn't been around for

ing happened to her?

king her sweet time. She's not the type to make waves, anyway." Her

-

nvestigati

f names and connections. A bartender's casual remark had give

voice came through, sharp wi

ng together. She's not an easy one to track, but I'v

replied. "I

-

e Re

r way back to Mirage. The comfort of her mother's home lingered

, her mask in place both literally and figuratively. The neon haze and th

with a folded note. "For you," he said, slipping i

per. The message was stark and

oom, her heart racing. The faces around

led as she whispe

ng a cruel prank, or had they uncovered something about her double life? Th