Danielle Remington

More often than not, Danielle spent most of her days sitting on a moldering motel bedspread, a rifle across her lap, with one eye on the door to the light-tight bathroom, the other on some crappy soap opera or another. Sometimes she would drift a little. And on very rare occasions, she would dream, seeing watery images of the life she should have known, the shapes running together like water colors.

That morning, her attention wasn't quite so split.

From sunrise until the last lingering rays of sunlight vanished beneath the jagged silhouette of the city, she sat by the motel window and stared up at the sky. Why was it she'd never appreciated how beautiful it was? She could still see a sliver of the moon throughout the day, like a pale, white toenail clipping in the sky. Clouds rolled by, shaped like whipped cream on top of sundaes. And then there was the sun. The big, beautiful, perfect sun.

This...this was what she was being asked to give up. How could she? How could anyone?

But people did. It happened all the time. More often than anyone realized and decidedly more often in her family than was normal.

As the sunlight faded in the west...Danielle wondered if she would ever see it again.