Carol spent the weekend in restless silence, replaying her daughter’s words. The name wouldn’t leave her mind. She kept whispering it while washing dishes, folding clothes, and even while staring blankly at the television. It clung like smoke. Whatever hope she’d clung to was already unraveling.
On Monday morning, Diane dragged her feet to school, muttering complaints. Carol kissed her forehead anyway, whispering, “Just try today. For me.” Diane shrugged and walked off, headphones jammed in her ears. Carol lingered at the curb, watching until her figure disappeared, her heart a knot of unease.