I would keep vigil over her. My chest felt hollow, like her empty birdcage in the corner of the room. I touched her things. The silver mirror, the bone-handled brush and tortoiseshell comb. I watched her still body as I neared her closet, wanting her to turn and invite me into bed. Her ten silver bangle bracelets were strewn carelessly over the dresser. One of them had been engraved with my name and birthday. I found it and ran my fingers over her name and mine—Vega. I placed the bracelet on my wrist.
