the door.
“I’m going outside for some air. Save me another piece of cake!”
Those were the last words I heard my sister say for decades.
Laura never came back inside.
There was no goodbye note.
No packed suitcase.
No phone call.
And the sunflower sweater vanished with her.
For years, every late-night phone call made my heart stop.
Mom never stopped searching.
She searched until the day she died.
Dad reacted differently.
Within months, he stopped helping with searches.
He packed away Laura’s photographs.
Eventually, simply mentioning her name
