Bobby Pins in the Vent
I sat on the edge of our daughter's bed for the first time since her accident. Since she died, is what I should say. I looked around her room at everything. At nothing. I saw posters she hung, paintings she had done, stuffed animals she kept on her pillow. The room was full. It was empty. I lowered my head, resting my face in the palms of my hands, trying to make sense of it all. When I finally pulled my hands away, my eyes fell upon the vent in the floor near my feet. Inside, I saw two bobby pins and I cried.
Note: the story above is fiction and not anecdotal. It is owned and copyrighted by David Henderson living in Redland, Prescott, Arkansas at the time of the writing. All rights reserved.
