Monday, November 7, 2011
Sleepless again, Rath stood in his bathroom and stared at the medicine cabinet, the mirror as fogged from his morning shower as the fields and woods were fogged outside, tiny tremors of anxiety buzzing in his hands and fingers. He licked his dry lips. Opened the medicine cabinet door.
Stared at its contents. Shaving cream. Razors. Lotions. Medicines.
Rachel’s old hairbrush.
Her long dark hair of her old self tangled in it.
He took hold of a strand of her hair and pulled it free of all the others. Opened the envelope in his hand and placed his daughter’s hair in it, next to the other hair.
He shut the cabinet door and left his quiet house to head out on the road again to see his daughter and take her the clothes and jacket he’d bought for her.