The Safekeep

by Yael van der Wouden

What was the worth of happiness that left behind a crater thrice the size of its impact.

Isabel stood in the hallway with a head full of cotton. She had kissed Eva against that wall. She had kissed Eva in that doorway. The memories were heavy, empty things low in her gut and only angered her: that her own doorway could be taken away from her, that a childhood and a youth and a life lived through that doorway could disappear in favor of a single person. The blouse Eva had worn that day, the way she had done her hair.