Sarah saw the email. Glanced at it. Deleted it. Another data breach. Another company apologizing. Another offer for “12 months of free credit monitoring.” She’d gotten four of these emails in the past year. Target. Equifax (again). Her health insurance provider. Some random website she’d created an account on years ago and forgotten about. Sarah…
The suitcase sat open on Jane’s bed like a mouth waiting to be fed, and she had no idea how to fill it.
Twenty-three kilograms. That’s what the airline allowed. Twenty-three kilograms to contain twenty-six years of life
The first time it happened, Claire thought she was just tired.
She was sitting at her kitchen table, staring at the untouched stack of her mother’s belongings that the hospice had sent over, when she noticed the coffee in her mug was hot again. Not warm, hot. Steam rising in delicate spirals, exactly as it had been twenty minutes ago when she’d first poured it.