The Unmaking of June Farrow

by Adrienne Young

I suspected that the ache of missing her would mostly come from those little things. The holes that were left behind, empty places I’d stumble upon now that she was gone.

It was a strange piece of jewelry that most closely resembled a watch. But the numbers were off-kilter, some of them missing. Ten and eleven were gone, and a zero stood in place of the twelve. The hands never moved, two of them perpetually stuck on the one, the other two pointing to nine and five. The numbers that were scratched from the mother-of-pearl surface could still be seen if I tilted it toward the light, a defect that Gran didn’t know the origin of.

Time is like a rope, made of many fibers, and when they’re bound up together, they make one strong timeline.”

The room was full of shadows. Ghosts with stories I didn’t yet know. But I’d had my secrets, just like everyone else did.