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“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she says, sinking into him as she once did with her mother. I kiss her temple as she sobs with her whole body. I hold her from the side, my arms overlapping Neo’s. “I wish I had wings,” she cries. “It’s okay, Sony,” Neo whispers, caressing red strands of fire lost in rain. He holds her tight, taking my hand in the process. “We’re not gonna let you fall.” Sony learns something that day. She learns that death isn’t playful. Death is sudden. It has no taste for irony or reason. It doesn’t wait for another tick of the metronome. It doesn’t wait for goodbyes. Death is
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