So now I’m stuck riffling through old notes, old pictures of her curly white hair and bright smile, remembering the way she made me feel as if I had a place in the world. I’m stuck staring at pictures of a woman so full of life and knowing she’s gone. I’m frozen, lost in the past, trying to figure out how in the hell the world hasn’t fallen off its axis without her powerful presence holding it upright. Wondering how Earth is still spinning without the force of her laughter and the comfort of her patience.

I pick up the picture of her standing beside me in the back room of the Book Nook. We’re facing each other, and I’m laughing, my curls all over the place as my head is thrown back and my eyes are closed. Gran is wearing a bright pink sweater, her pendant resting on her chest. Her white hair is curled and tucked behind her ears, and her cheeks are nearly as rosy as her sweater. She’s watching me, her smile’s huge, and I feel like if I stare hard enough, I’ll be able to feel her hand on my shoulder again.

I remember this day. I was in college and had come home for spring break. She was my first stop. I remember her face when she saw me as I walked through the door, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what we were laughing at in this picture. The pride she had for me is practically bursting off the matte paper and I remember that. But at the same time, I’ve forgotten, and as I try to recall this moment, this conversation, I realize that what I have left of her is fading. I can’t remember the exact tenor of her voice or what her perfume smelled like when it mixed with the scent of her shampoo.

No matter how hard I’ve tried to cling to every piece of her, she’s still drifting away.

A knock at my door breaks my concentration. I glance at my watch and my heart rate kicks up a notch when I see how late it is. Nobody should be knocking at my door at this time of night.

Slowly and quietly, I climb off my bed. I look around my room for something that could be used as a weapon and vow to buy a baseball bat after work tomorrow. I start to tiptoe through my apartment, cursing myself for not bringing my phone to my room with me. There are a few more knocks as I creep around my living room like I’m the burglar, when a voice I’ve become very familiar with calls my name.

“Drew?” Jasper calls from the hallway. “Are you in there? It’s Jasper.”

I take a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow before I unlock the door.