Suddenly, a woman walks out in a black tank top and sleep shorts, holding a coffee mug between her fingers. Without thinking about it at all, I know it deep within my gut. It’s her. Her hair is dyed silver with her dark roots poking through and she’s not a little girl anymore, but I know it all the way down to my soul. It’s my girl, the one who was ripped from my arms kicking and screaming.
