From the confines of my dark closet, I sang. I sang until my lips were cracked, until I'd scraped my throat raw and tasted blood, until my tears had dried up. Even then, I didn't stop.

I pictured Lucy in her dress and shiny curls singing right along with me, our voices in perfect harmony, the kind of music that touched others' souls and made them listen. In the back of my mind, I memorized her even more than I already had, processed the jagged hole she'd left behind, and pieced ...