ABOUTOne day Aunt Sierra went to the beach with me and said she was tired. “I can't wait to sleep on my pillow!” she said. A week later my aunt was murdered. One morning at 1:30 a.m. my cousin and I were talking about her death, and then a folded, secure pillowcase fell off the shelf. My cousin and I hid under the blanket, we knew it was her. First I looked up, and when I did, I felt something I couldn't explain, some feeling of fear, or was it comfort? Either way, I think the pillowcase had something to do with the pillow Sierra wanted… You decide.
