Same.
“It’s you.”
“Yes.”
The room tilted.
She reached for me.
I stepped back again.
“No.”
Her hand dropped.
“You don’t get to touch me yet.”
She nodded.
“You’re right.”
“How are you alive?”
“Can we leave first?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“We buried you.”
Several people looked over.
I did not care.
“We stood beside a coffin.”
“Mom still takes flowers to your grave.”
“Dad could barely say your name for two years.”
“How are you alive?”
Lily closed her eyes.
“The car burned after I got out.”
“What?”
“I don’t remember getting out.”
“Then how—”
“I was thrown clear.”
She spoke quickly now.
“I had a head injury.”
