The only sound that can be heard is the subtle pitter-patter of raindrops falling against the roof. As I turn my head to glance out of the window, my nose nearly connects with the cool, smooth surface of the glass, my warm breaths creating a foggy area. Despite my cheerful surroundings, a neutral coloured couch adorned with decorative pillows that match the sky blue walls, I can only focus on the dark shadows of the furniture that are created by the remnants of the sunset peeking out from behind the stormclouds. I look down to my hands neatly folded between my legs, grasping the latest and final thing I would ever receive from her. I have looked at it once, twice, a thousand times. No amount is enough to memorize the things it contained. It is not enough to remember her face, it is not enough to remember her hair, it is not enough.

I squeeze my eyes shut, creating wrinkles at the corners. I inhale and exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I sit there, legs criss-crossed, chest inflating and deflating, for what felt like twenty minutes, but turned out to be a meager two. At that point, I finally work up enough courage to unfold my hands from their iron grip. Like a blossoming flower, my fingers unfurl to expose the object that has previously been encased between my clammy palms. Laying there, a black iPhone. I turn it over a few times, just to convince myself that it is real and I am not actually dreaming, which I would prefer over my current situation. Hesitantly, I lift my right hand and carefully tap the home button and slide my finger across the screen so I am able to punch in the passcode. I am forced to redo the password until I can steady my trembling hand enough to properly type the correct sequence of numbers. I then navigate my way through the plethora of the latest apps to locate the one that I am dreading to find, because I know that no matter how much I wish and pray, nothing is ever going to return to the way it used to be. My finger taps the screen almost mechanically, as if were set on autopilot. There, at the top center, the three simple letters. These letters were the thing I cherished most in my life. The thing I looked up to, the thing that supported me no matter what, the thing that loved me unconditionally. And on that screen, the last pictures she would ever send me. The last words she would ever tell me.

The first picture: a landscape. Jagged rocks jutting from the sides of mountains, rays from the rising sun looming from behind. The mountains, capped with snow, pierce the sky like swords while their edges are covered in trees that are the most vibrant colour of green. I could only dream of smelling the crisp mountain air or the fresh smell of pine while listening to her gasp in awe or laugh in disbelief. I could dream of being able to experience the world with her, but now all I dream of is just being able to be with her. Accompanying that, a brief paragraph describing all of her adventures from that day to me, even though she called later to explain them on the telephone. The second picture: a selfie. Camera pointed downward, the corners of her mouth turned upward into a toothy grin. Her hair was pulled back into her iconic bun, which always reminded me of a ballerina. Her hazel eyes shimmered from the reflection of the sun coming in through the window she was facing, matching perfectly with her clear complexion. It is the most beautiful, most honest picture I had ever seen of her. The final piece: a text.

Hey, honey! Today’s going to be a busy day for me, so I won’t be able to call you until later this evening. I’m boarding the train to my conference right now, but I will keep you updated on the other events of the day! See you soon!

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what comes next.

I love you! xoxo -Mom

I quickly press the lock button on the phone and clutch it to my chest as if my life depended on it. I will myself not to cry, but no matter how hard I try to hold them back, they come anyway.

I can hear the hushed whispers of my family from the next room over. The room is now completely dark, no longer illuminated by the setting sun, but by the reflection of the moon. I survey my surroundings, the room that was once vibrant with colour and life is now dull and undisturbed. I tune out the lingering noises from the people around me and the only sound that can be heard is the subtle pitter-patter of raindrops falling on the roof.