Everyone is sleeping. I stand at the window.

The light of the moon touches the river. I put my ear to the cold glass and I listen to the music of the water.

I am alone.

I am alone like the baby in the lullaby with the birds and the butterflies around him.

The wind makes the trees to sing. The wind makes the river to sing.

I sing too. I sing a gray song. A little, little Mila song. Not big, not many voices. Only one voice. A song of alone.

I think Justin hears my song. His bed squeaks and squeaks again and then one more time. I wait for his footsteps in the hallway. I wait for him to come and sit in the corner of my room.

He does not come.

It is late. Too late even for the man who comes to clean at night.

I open the door and go from my bedroom, down the stairs. I shut off the switches and turn the locks the way Sandy does when we go out.

I go from the house and cross the big street to the river. I am afraid to go in the dark water, but I sense not danger there.

The water sings in my ears. I feel the pull of the sea. I swim a long time. I swim very far. The cold water empties the strength from my bones.

Again and again I make my dolphin name in my nose, but there is no answer.

I cannot find the warm sea where the dolphins wait. It is too far, and I am too alone.

It is hard to swim back. So hard. I am tired.