![]() ![]() I look up the sleeve of his suit to his face, his serious green gold-flecked eyes. I shouldn’t let him hold my hand, not now, not after everything, but I don’t pull away. ![]() Then someone takes my hand, and it’s familiar, the heat of his skin, the slender yet masculine fingers enfolding mine. He says, “Let’s just get this over with.” I wish I knew what he meant. He gazes straight ahead, his jaw set in determination or anger or something else I can’t identify. He’s wearing a suit, black jacket and everything: dark gray button-down shirt, shiny shoes, a striped silver tie. That’s when I see my brother walking beside me. A warm breeze stirring the trees.Ī Black Wing must be nearby, really nearby, if the raging grief is any indication. Overhead the sky is a pure, cloudless blue. It’s not the hillside from my vision, not the forest fire, not anyplace I’ve seen before. I walk among pine trees up a gentle slope. I feel it over everything else, a terrible grief that chokes me, blurs my sight, weighs down my feet as I move through the tall grass. ![]()
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