Emma had spent ten years mourning her sister, Sophie.
Some grief aged quietly. It did not scream every morning or keep a person on the floor forever. It learned to sit at the breakfast table.
It rode in the passenger seat.
It waited in the mirror during birthdays, holidays, and ordinary Tuesdays when Emma caught a flash of blonde hair on the street and forgot how to breathe.
Sophie had died in a car accident when she was 23.
At least, that’s what everyone believed.