Imagine the shadow of a sail moving over rough waters,
the
waves like turbines
turning
over and over again, tumbling endlessly.
There
are no monuments where the car crashed
to
honor the dead girl.
There
is just a stump marking where the tree stood that stopped time.
Like
a limb that has been surgically removed, her mother
and
father can sense her presence. Sometimes
they
can hear her voice coming from her bedroom
up
the stairs, murmuring in a language
that
they can't quite make out,
and
even all these years later they believe she is with them,
reaching
out, just beyond their grasp,
just
out of sight.
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