Now I Lay Me Down To Rest

By Stephanie M.

Yesterday, in the room at the corridor’s end, I blew out the lights—my turn, finally—and slipped beneath the sheets, wheezing supplications. Then came the quiet. The youngest’s scream. Muted footsteps.

Now, I stand under the light as Mama lowers my portrait. The candle flickers. Mama stiffens, fingers tightening around her rosary beads.

“Oh God, my Farah,” she breathes, pressing her face into the portrait.

I move forward and reach for her hand. She shivers, sliding her palm over mine, then walks away, taking only candlelight.

I look down. Her footprints trail through luminescent dust.

Behind me…there are none.