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The Disappearance of Emilia Cobblewick


It had happened on a good day. Emilia had thought so. Emilia had said so.
I could still hear her voice in my mind like a dream, a puff of bedtime stars:
'It's a good day, Penelope. It's a good day for a new beginning.'
I touched my cheek, that little plush beneath the bone where she'd kissed me goodnight. And I knew that when I was old enough, I would swim through the seven seas, climb over the clouds, shout her name at the stars and the moon and the forevers in between.
I would find her. I would love her. And I would kiss her cheek good morning.

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