As I Fade (One Breath at a Time: Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

childlike smile.
    “ Anytime. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
    Oh my God, he made me sound like a monster.
    “She means no harm, Claude.” Her eyes beheld me earnestly. “I think she’s in shock or something.”
    They were talking about me as if I wasn’t there.
    “Claude, isn’t it a lovely day? We should all rejoice.” The old woman tilted her chin high into the air, marveling on and on as if life were perfect. Needing to know what was going on and how this article, this newspaper even existed when I sat right here, alive and physically well, I interrupted their pleasantries.
    I urgently tapped at the newspaper with my index finger to get the old woman’s attention. “Please, tell me what this is about?”
    “Oh that...yes, it’s about...” She looked upward, closed her eyes, shook her head from side to side, flashed her eyes open again and looked down at me. “A sad story. So sad. So pitiful. I’ve read it many times, too. The little girl had such a pretty name...Brianna Edison. The evil man that kidnapped her stole her puppy, too. Such a sad story, it made me cry.”
    I shook my head, confused. “Who? Brianna —no, the one about—me.”
    “ You, dear?” Her eyes questioned me.
    “ Yes, me,” my voice cracked as I grabbed the paper, targeting my eyes in on the little girl’s name again. “My name is right here—” Brianna Edison. I rapidly blinked my eyes to clear my vision, and then peered at the name again to insure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
    “ How could it be about you, Dear?” the old woman asked with a hint of sympathy. Her voice sounded far away and wobbly.
    “ But—it said...” I looked down at the name again, dumbfounded. Although I felt overwhelmingly hot, my body broke out in such an intense cold sweat.
    The old woman frowned at me. A worried expression clouded her eyes. “See, it’s not about you at all. Thank goodness, huh? I told you before—oh dear—it’s not a true story.” She sat down next to me and consolingly patted my shoulder.
    “It’s not?” I asked automatically, as my mind spun on full cycle. Instantly, I felt as if I had morphed into a child as the little old lady comforted me.
    “ Oh no, not at all, dearling. Look. I told you it wasn’t real.” She pointed to the bottom of the page. “But it still made me sad, of course.”
    The footnote read: These stories are not real events.
    I stared at the print. The words blurred. Involuntary tears filled my eyes.
    “Well, Dear, can I have my paper back?” she asked.
    “ Yes...I’m not sure why...I mean—my eyes saw my name,” I stuttered as I handed her the newspaper.
    “ It’s alright. Maybe you’re hungry and you’re sugar is low. You’re such a skinny ba-link.”
    I tightened my lips nodding. “Yes, maybe that’s it.” I inhaled deeply.
    “Listen, it’s nothing to cry over. Our eyes can play tricks on us sometimes. Don’t believe everything you read,” the old woman said with a motherly inflection in her voice.
    “ Can I ask why you embarrassed me earlier? That wasn’t very nice.”
    She shrugged. “You seemed so uptight. You should laugh more often. Even, if it’s at your own self. Why are you so serious? You’re too young to be worrying all the time. What in the world happened to you over the years? Did someone get under your skin one too many times?” She rushed out the series of questions in a single breath.
    Feeling uncomfortable and shocked by her forwardness, I lied, of course. “It’s nothing like that. And, I’m not serious,” I quipped defensively.
    The old woman sighed and said, “Could have fooled me.”
    “Actually today—I had something happen that—” Why was I about to tell her my business? She’d probably blabber it to the entire crowd on the train. I continued, “I’m not serious, my friends and I laugh all the time. I’m just really tired.”
    “ Dearling, you will have many blessings if you allow them to come to you.” Ironically,