file2751274985177“When Jill comes home that evening, she calls out to her daughter, but there’s no reply. The snow falls from her jacket as she hangs it in the closet beside the front door, listening to the silence for some sign of Christina. Usually there’s something: laughter as she chats with a friend on the phone, or music from her laptop, or water running for a long shower in progress. Tonight there’s nothing.” – Read more in South85 Journal