WE SAT ON Sam’s bed, looking around the room. I’m not sure what we were looking for. She texted me. We did that sometimes, texted each other even though we were in the same room: I can’t live here. Me: U don’t have to Sam: where is home? Me: I’ll be ur home She leaned into me. “Get me out of here, Sally.” Before we left Sam’s house, I used my phone to take pictures of Sylvia’s last note to her daughter. I wanted Sam to have a copy. So she’d never forget. As if she ever would.
