Did the dust in that left-be room contain fragments of her skin? Were the bitten fingernails tangled in the shag rug hers or mine? I’d never thought to ask why Gip and Ruby hadn’t done anything to change that room, hadn’t taken down the posters or thrown out the ratty teddy bears. It was a room stuck in place, a boot in a bog. “Why didn’t you ever clean this room out, Ruby?” The rattle of her stilled and she let her eyes drift to some middle space, out of focus. Her voice simmered and she mostly whispered, “Thought she might come back someday.”
