I let the silence engulf and simply sit with her. For the final time.

Then, after an eternity, when the candle has burned to almost nothing, the dancing shadows playing on the wall, I stand and make my way toward the door. My foot catches a wooden box sticking out partially from under the bed. I fall forward, kneeling.

The lid to the box is open and I recognize it. It's Rowa's keepsake box. She'd take this out for me when I was a child whenever I was upset, then tell me wondrous, magical stories about what was inside.

I touch my finger along the rim, feeling grief ride rough...