She watched from the bed as the creeper slowly took over the wall and then the windows of the room. Spring rain hastened its growth and it twisted tendrils around burglar bars, stuck to glass, and made sure that only slivers of light filled with dust motes could enter the now darkened room. A robin perched in the overgrown window. “He is gone,” she told the bird. “They said he’s not coming back. Not ever.”

— Originally published by Paragraph Planet, 7 May 2017