Through Sally's EyesYou turn the car off, but you don’t get out yet. You can’t. You’re afraid of these memories. But you’ve come this far and it would be a shame not to see it through. Besides that, getting out of the city was no easy feat, and you could have turned around and gone back any number of times. You’re here.More Like This
You look over to the passenger seat, to the empty seat where he should have been sitting. He. Your son. He should have been there, smiling at you, pulling you out of the car, his green eyes shining in excitement. But he isn’t there; you don’t know where he is. He’s been missing for two months. On his seat is a notebook and a pile of papers. No picnic basket, no beach blanket, no Percy.
None of that.
Finally, you steel your nerves and get out of the car, bringing the notebook with you. The fresh sea air blows toward you, lifting you and pulling you closer to the beach. Your feet follow willingly, even though the res
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find yourself seated before an ornate mirror, this time in a wedding dress. Pale grey eyes, long black lashes, framed in a crop of short black hair. Razor nose, offset with full lips, now frowning in concentration. High cheekbones. You cock your head, taking in the symmetrical beauty. Memories of cold anesthesia and surgery, the day you had your nose redone again.
Motion around you. Peripheral vision reveals a pair of girls working on your hair, fussing with your veil, now folded back over your head. They smile in their work, clever hands in folded lace.
You stand abruptly, remembering. Out, you must get out, now. Confusion. The girls stand back blinking. They smile uncertainly at the joke they dont understand. You duck and spin. Flip the veil from your head. Two steps to the door. Knob in your hand, t