Emily’s lip trembled. “Then where is she?”
He looked at both of them. “In your hearts. In your memories. In the stories we tell.”
Grace was quiet for a moment.
The basement door stayed unlocked.
Then she asked, “Can we still watch her videos sometimes?”
His voice broke. “Yes. Of course.”
A week later, the leak was fixed.
A therapist’s number was on the fridge.
The basement door stayed unlocked.
But now, when we pass that door, nobody has to pretend anymore.
