The phone rings.
I dance along with its shrill tone
and listen as my father answers.
My view shaded,
by a five year old’s innocence.

His face falls.
My heart sinks.
Did something bad happen?

Laura.
My companion, my cousin,
my neighbor, my friend,
gone
he tells me.

My mom enters from the garage,
a brand new pair of sneakers
just for me in her hands.

Sneakers!

She stops at the agony
painted across my fathers face
What’s wrong? she asks.
Oh Mommy, Laura died.

New shoes! Let me see the new shoes!
I tried them on as my parents
wept.