She read it five times, and she could’ve laughed. All the anger she had ever felt since he left came running through her. Coursing through her veins, she could feel the red fog start to cloud her head when she took the lighter to the paper. She held it until the flames engulfed it, burning her fingers. She watched as the flames died out leaving a curled black piece behind, like everything he ever touched.

     She sat down leaning beside the open door; she put her head in to see if she could hear anything. She finally lit her cigarette, letting the dark toxic smoke fill her lungs. She let it out slowly letting all of her anger out in that one breathe. She felt spent, like she could fall asleep then and there. She held herself, looking for warmth against the night. She looked over seeing the letter that she had forgotten about in her anger.

     She held it, feeling the smooth paper, her fingers tracing her name out. She could see the person who wrote it, the long fingers that made each stroke. She brought it to her nose hopping to smell her, to have some evidence that she wrote it. It smelt of dried ink and paper, she opened it carefully not wanting to rip it. She pulled the piece of paper out, a ring fell into her lap. She held it up, studying every little detail about it; it matched the one she wore around her neck. She put it on, and opened the letter.

           Dear Shane,

     She could feel the tears run down her cheeks, she couldn’t hold them back. She felt relieve and pain knowing that her mother was still alive. She hated her for not looking, for not trying to contact her. She wished she could see her, to touch her one more time. She was torn from her thoughts when she heard Carmen calling her.