She squeezed my hand once and pushed her cart down toward the citrus section. I stood there with my apples and I didn’t call after her. I don’t know why. I think I just needed a minute.

By the time I got to the end of the aisle she was already gone.

I’ve been sitting with those last four words ever since. The only person who. I’ve been trying to figure out what a ten-year-old Destiny meant to put after that. Maybe she never knew either. Maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe some things don’t need a neat ending to be true.

I still feel like I should have done more. I don’t think that’s going away. But I also keep hearing her say “Wednesdays were chicken nugget day” with that small, certain voice, like it was a fact she’d kept safe somewhere for twenty years. I don’t know what to do with all of this yet. I’m still working on it.