Chapter 4

Firebird. I freeze. I’d forgotten he used to call me that. How he used to say my name was perfect for mebecause my hair looked like a raging fire, just like he imagined the mythological bird would look when it died in a burst of flames.

I open my eyes, but the vision of him lingers. The photo album starts slipping out of my grip, but I clasp it tighter. Something falls out of it and lands on the floor with a faint clinking sound, and I look down.

A circle of silver lies next to my right foot. I blink twice before I understand what I’m looking at.

“Fuck.” The word is expelled by coughs and my eyes water. I bend down and pick it up.

It’s the ring. His ring.