She stepped toward the microphone.
Danny held up one hand.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
He turned the box around.
The inside of the lid had words burned into the wood.
Not printed.
Burned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The letters were uneven.
Some darker than others.
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I leaned closer.
“MARIANNE IS NOT THE BEST BECAUSE SHE IS FIRST.”
“SHE IS THE BEST BECAUSE SHE COMES BACK.”
I stopped breathing.
Danny looked at me.
“You come back.”
I couldn’t move.
“When Mom is sad, you come back.”
He pointed toward me.
“When I got lost at the fair, you came back.”
I remembered that.
Danny had wandered away near the food stalls when he was eight.
We found him within six minutes.
