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At night,

Tammie and I talk about
what could have

happened

to her.

When did we last
see her?

What was she doing?

Both of us

have different

memories.

Tammie:

Medicine time
two days ago.

Me:

Talking to Gavin
yesterday.

I'm in the hall painting
everyday.

I'm sure of it.

Sometimes, you can't even tell me
what you're painting, Fifi.

If she didn't come for medicine time
yesterday morning,

we'd have noticed she's gone
yesterday.

Her grey eyes
sparkle

in the lightless night.

Her smile

is apologetic.

We did notice yesterday.
But we didn't care, remember.

My head hurts.

Why do you care now?

She starts to squirm.

I grab her wrists.
Stop moving around.

Her lips part
and I know what she's going to say

before

she says it.

You never liked her
to begin with.

'Whether I like her or not–'

She's the one
who took your plastic knife.

[Read the full story at novelconbini.com!]