When she saw me, she stopped moving.
I stopped breathing.
Neither of us spoke.
My mother stood beside her, crying silently.
The woman took one uncertain step forward.
“Emily?”
My name sounded unfamiliar in her voice, as if she had spent years practicing it in private and was terrified of saying it aloud.
I looked at her face.
The crescent-shaped mark near her eyebrow.
The shape of her eyes.
The slight crease that appeared beside her mouth when she tried to smile.
I had seen these features in the photograph.
I could see them in my own reflection.
“Are you Sarah?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
She began to cry harder.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but now that you’re standing here, I can’t seem to find the words.”
I looked at my mother.
Margaret wiped her cheeks.
“Emily, I wanted to tell you. I swear I did.”
