“I am of the understanding that we have a mutual acquaintance,” Matilda says. Her face softens. “How’s my girl?” I lean forward in my seat, my elbows resting on my knees. “She’s a mess,” I answer, voice breaking. “Color everywhere. A laugh that’s just a shade too loud. Painfully addicted to candy canes.” I pause. “As lovely on the inside as she is on the outside.” I miss her so much.
