The words slipped out before I realized I was speaking. The prayer hung in the air, fragile, weightless. The kind of plea whispered by people who don’t know if anyone’s listening anymore. The house was still except for the ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the city outside. I sat there on the edge of my bed, holding the letter to my chest until the paper crumpled, until it started to feel like the only heartbeat left in the room.
Every light hummed wrong, every shadow stretched too far. The boys were still asleep upstairs, their soft breathing the only sound left in a home that suddenly felt too big, too hollow, too empty of him.
I dialed Ahmir’s number again.
And again.
And again.
Each time it rang, it went straight to voicemail. By the third call, it didn’t even ring any
