CLAIRE
Two words. Softly spoken into my shoulder. So faint that if I hadn't been cradling her against my chest, if her lips hadn't been mere inches from my ear, I might have completely overlooked them. But I caught every syllable.
Don't go. The very same two words that every child left behind carries in their heart like a heavy stone. The words I had whispered to my father's back as he strolled down the corridor of our apartment in Queens, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, never looking back.
The words I had silently repeated into my pillow each night for a year after his departure, a quiet plea to a deity I wasn't certain was real, yearning for the one thing I desired more than anything else in the world.
Stay. Please don't leave. Don't go. My throat felt constricted. My eyes stu
