Sue: I miss my sister. Every night at 10 or so, she used to call me on the phone, and when I asked her why…she’d tell me her body told her…she wanted to hear my voice.
[Sue begins to cry]
Will: [gets up and takes Sue’s paper] Here, I’ll read it. [begins to read] I miss my sister. The smell of her shampoo. The way she could always convince me to read her another book. When you love some like I loved her they’re a part of you it’s like you’re attached by this invisible tether and no matter how far away you are you can always feel them and now every time I reach for that tether I know there’s no one on the other end and I feel like I’m falling into nothingness and then I remember Jean. I remember a life lead with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets and I’m inspired to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my sister so much it feels like piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time I want to hold her. Just ten more seconds— is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold her? But I can’t and I won’t and the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness is that Jean would kill me if I did. So for now I’m just going to miss her. I love you, Jeannie. Rest in peace.