Twenty-Five
"Is aunt Alessandra coming back?" little Alessandra asks as I drive us back home from her school. Thanks for the reminder, kid. "Not soon," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. I haven't told Ally, who's sitting in the passenger's seat, what was going on after my phone call with Alessandra a few days ago. It's been 5 days, and I'm quite certain I've gone mad. The empty side of the bed has been mocking me so much that I often sleep on the floor now. The silence of our place has grown so loud that I leave the television open and on max volume during the rare times that I'm home. I've been feeling so horrible that the only time I'm home is when little Alessandra is back from school, though I bring her to malls and parks as much as I can to avoid our apartment. "Where did she go?" the
- Writer
