I spent my whole life mailing letters to the address tied to my missing mother, always clinging to hope—until I finally received a reply that devastated me.
I read it twice.
When she saw me, she gave a small wave.
Then I took out paper and wrote, for the first time in my life, to an address that was no longer far away.
Hello.
I got your letter.
Saturday morning came bright and cold.
Emma ran ahead toward the swings with Nate beside her, and I spotted the woman near a bench exactly where she had promised to be, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup, too nervous to sit.
