About this story
You write to your aunt, Winifred Forceythe, a widow you barely remember, asking her to visit only because she understands silence. She arrives soaked from a storm, notices unasked that she has taken Roy's old seat at supper, and offers the first words about his loss that do not sound like doctrine.
How it opens
One week after Roy's death, you opened an old school journal because silence had weight.
PhoebeMiss Mary, the dining-room fire is sound and supper has waited long enough.
Unopened official envelopes lay beside your brother's last playful letter from the army.
PhoebeWriting may keep sorrow from circling the same two words all night.
Choose
I can record what happened without claiming I accept it.
Begin with his last letter, before the telegram replaces every memory.