Every Last Word

by Tamara Ireland Stone

I see a pair of boots, right next to my shoes. Then legs, crossed at the ankles, mirroring my posture exactly. My gaze travels up slowly, carefully, like I’m afraid any sudden movement will cause me to lose her. When I reach her face, I suck in a breath. Then I give her the biggest smile. “Hey. I’m glad you’re here,” I say, tapping the page with my pencil. “I could use your help with this.” Her head falls to the side and she smiles back at me. “Anytime,” she says as she reaches over and takes my hand in hers. I want to keep looking at her, but instead, I let my eyes fall shut. “Actually,” I whisper, “I think I’ve got this one.” When I open my eyes again, Caroline is gone. And I start filling the page with words.