A Message in a Sweater
A bright red box speckled by the morning drizzle greeted me when I opened my front door. A heavy heart stifled any excitement or surprise at the mysterious package; the one-year anniversary of my sister’s disappearance saw to that.
An image of the final glimpse of her bright pink sweater through the crowd throbbed in my head.
In a trance I opened the box. My heart jolted painfully.
Folded neatly inside, nestled a pink sweater. I buried my face in its softness, breathing in her perfume. Was she sending a message?
Something dropped to the ground—a neatly severed finger.