Return to sender…
Each morning when I shower, I hear these words, whispers echoing.
“Return what to sender?!” I scream at the mirror.
The mirror never replies.
It has been five long years now since the fire which engulfed my apartment stole my baby boy. Stole my husband, too, my soulmate.
This morning as I step out of the shower, the mirror shows me something new. A man, tall and strong, with a baby in his arms. As I watch them burn away, I see words written in the steam: RETURN TO CINDER.
I now know what to do.
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