I Write Your Name
Tracy Fahey
The night before the bombs went off I sent you a text. Valerie, it said. I don’t think this is working anymore. I calculated the time back home in England – only eleven o’clock, but you always went to bed early when I wasn’t home. I looked at the text for a long time, then pressed the ‘Send’ button before I could change my mind. Ping went the phone; message sent, irrevocable.
And then I was a coward. I turned the phone off, and stuck it in my pocket. There was no point in leaving it on, I told myself. You wouldn’t see it till the morning.
Valerie. I don’t think this is working anymore.
No matter how I try, I can’t forget those words.
I remember the first time I saw you. I was at Leonie’s party in Camden; a party I didn’t want to go to. I was standing in
