s e v e n  m o n t h s  l a t e r

She still doesn’t remembered.

They put her in foster care.

I don’t see her anymore.

I try calling.

She never picks up.

I sit in my car.

She’s gone.

She will never come back.

I hit the steering wheel.

Hard.

So hard the drawer opens.

Then I see her handwriting.

The handwriting I had seen in Social Studies.

I pick up the paper.

I read it.