Soon, I heard footsteps. When I pressed my eye to the crack between the closet doors, I saw Papa walking past.
Mama was in his arms.
She was wearing her red dress and her head hung back over the crook of Papa’s elbow. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open a little bit, like she was about to say something but forgot what it was.
She wasn’t moving at all.
I bit down on my hand so hard I tasted blood. The scream stayed trapped in my chest like a bird beating itself against a window. Mama. Mama. Mama!
Papa carried her down the hall. I heard the front door open and close. Then nothing. Just the house settling around me, creaking and groaning like it was sad, too.
I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat in the darkness and shivered.
That feeling didn’t change as the hours passed. N
