Borderline Silence

Epilogue: Five Year North/The Lost Chapter

The letter arrived on a Tuesday that felt like any other—Winnipeg spring, which meant snow in the morning and mud by afternoon. I found it mixed with the usual bills and flyers, the American postmark making my hand freeze on the mailbox.

“Mama, I’m going to be late!” Malik called from inside. Thirteen now, all gangly limbs and cracking voice, more concerned about his robotics club than old ghosts.

“Coming!” I shouted back, but I stood frozen, holding the letter like it might explode.

The return address was unfamiliar, but the city—Phoenix—sent phantom pain through old scars. Five years of distance hadn’t dulled the reflex to fear anything from that desert that had nearly devoured us.