Sometimes, she thinks he's there. Her son has his eyes. Her husband's hand is soft and reminds her of fireworks. Her name is spoken in a voice she thought ten years down the line she'd forget. Sometimes, guilt strikes her with a bitterness only grief can supply, and it takes everything she has to not try and go back. But her own will cannot stand up to the call of ghosts that still linger. And so she writes to them instead.

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