“I won’t,” she said, knowing I knew.
There was something I didn’t think about until later.
When I went back to bed that night, I passed Lily’s room. The door was open. Her desk lamp was still on, and on the desk was a shoebox I didn’t recognize. The lid was half-off. Inside, I could see what looked like old photos and an envelope.
I didn’t look. I didn’t think about it. I turned off the lamp and went to bed.
I’ve thought about that moment a lot since then.
How close I was.
Wednesday morning, Lily came downstairs at 6:45 with the dress folded in tissue paper inside a big shopping bag. She’d stayed up the rest of the night to finish it. I could tell. Her eyes were red, and she was moving like her whole body was made of wet sand.
