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I smiled. "Claire," she said, "we must look forward. We have to learn to let go."
I stood outside the clinic for a long time.
School had just let out and the street was alive with vendors, children's laughter and people calling one another's names.
A stranger texted me a photo — the shredded picture I had torn, now pieced together again.
I deleted it and blocked the number. Two little girls passed holding hands, one with a skewer of candied fruit.
"There's so much homework," one said.
"Can you help me, sister?" "Yes — finish it and we can watch TV." They walked away, laughing until they vanished.
