My First Love Died on My 17th Birthday — Thirty Years Later, a Young Woman Who Looked Exactly Like Her Appeared at My Door

was finished, I cleaned gutters. If the gutters were clean, I reorganized the garage. If the garage was already perfect, I found another excuse to keep moving.

Anything mechanical.

Anything loud.

Anything that prevented my mind from drifting back to the same place.

To her.

Lily.

For thirty years, I hated my birthday because it was the day I lost the only continue reading …