Today is too hot and Lana draws the curtains.
She’s gone. I mean, I can’t see her anymore,
but I can still imagine her, slowly tracing each
decision she makes. She says goodbye to her
teacher with a kiss on the cheek, she turns
the fan on… Someone calls at the door.
She takes her time to respond. It’s my brother
who has come to deliver an order of ice.
Together, they walk across the dining room;
a few drops of water fall to the rug. I call her Lana
because that’s what I’d like to be called when
I get to her age.
46
