TW: Mentions of suicide, familial death.

My story is black and white. One of dusty footprints and blue memories. It goes like this.

“Your sister is dead.”

The streets are gray with concrete and asphalt-stained snow. Frigid air buzzes loudly around me, honking cars and conversations echoing off of brick buildings. My steps leave watery drags of slush behind, quickly brushed back to smoothness by the trails of other pedestrians. I stare at the horizon.

It wasn’t always like this. Last year, the streets had been swept clear of any life. I’d been inside, watching the TV with Natalie. It snowed so much I thought I was drowning. Quarantine can only save you from so much.

“It was ten floors. She couldn’t have survived.” 

“I’m so sorry, Catherine.”

There’s no way to put this into words. I was with her, and then I wasn’t, and now she’s so far away, unreachable. In the clouds. It was easier to accept four months ago. The sky is grayer today and the clouds more unforgiving, weighing my feet into the ground. All things return to dust. Each snowflake crushed under my feet, every autumn leaf crinkled to powder between my palms. My memories of her slip down the drain as I wash my hair, lost in the water. Her voice rings in my head whenever my brother speaks.

“This is all part of the process of grief. Take your time, we will always be here for you.”

The city hums with life. I’m watching people skip the lights, risking their lives to twist around moving cars. I stand at the edge of the sidewalk. The walking man glows white. I could cross the street, but I can’t do anything but stare at the cars in front of me. It’s too crowded. My legs won’t move, paralyzed by some unknown force. I couldn’t tell you.

“Hurry up, asshole! Get out the way!” Someone shouts from behind me. I jolt and nod a semiconscious apology, stepping forwards.

“It’s been too long, Catherine. You need to move on. She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Pain is loss. It’s Natalie flinging herself off the ledge, an almost fatal injury, an ambulance taking too long to arrive. Pain is seven minutes. Pain is forgetting every detail about her. All things return to dust.

All things return to dust. I jam my key into the doorknob, push myself into the house, and shut the door behind me. My fingers are too cold to bend. The key threatens to tumble out of my fingers and clatter onto the floor. On the couch, my mother lounges across from my dad. They told me to go on a walk, get some fresh air. I had begrudgingly agreed to come out of hiding. Dad is the splitting image of Natalie. When he welcomes me back, I can’t meet his eyes.

“Tell me a story, Nat, I can’t fall asleep! Please? Please please? With a cherry on top?”

“I’m sorry, please don’t tell Mom and Dad! I’ll let you hit me back twice as hard, seriously-- why are you laughing? Stop that!”

“Your sister is dead. It was ten floors. She couldn’t have survived. I’m so sorry, Catherine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry. I can’t recall the rest.

My eyes dribble slow tears onto my pillowcase. They’ve been nearly always puffy lately, but I can still see the silver glow of a sunrise drift into my room. The university had put me on a semester of “required mental health leave.” Each repeating day weighs heavier than the last.

Later this week, my brother will find me in my room. I’ll be laying on my bed, and he’ll be sitting on the chair in front of me. His words will be half lost to the air conditioner and to my unwillingness to hear them.

“You really don’t have to remember everything. No one expects you to. Memories fade, that’s just how things work.” All things return to dust. Liam will run his fingers through his hair, look at me with shattering pity. His mouth will open and close like a fish as he searches for the right words that won’t make me break.

He can’t think I’m that delicate.

“She’ll never completely leave your side. It’s okay if you forget the details. We’re only human, right?” He smiles carefully at me.

My face is half-turned to him, legs tangled in the bedsheets. It’s dark. The light peeking through the curtains glares at him. Dad must have sent him over.

“Sure,” I offer, voice daring to break. “Thanks.” 

Liam looks at me. He sighs, stands up, and slinks out of the room. I stare at where he had been. My room is dusty. I haven’t cleaned it in weeks.

There’s really no way to put this into words. One day, she disappeared, and now she’s gone. Her voice sounds like Liam’s, urging me to go on. Let’s not waste time on what has faded.

This isn’t black and white. Natalie is painted red, the frozen world outside is dark blue. When all things will burn back into ash, there’s no room to be caught like dust in a spiderweb of the forgotten. There are things I should be doing. I’ve got to get going now, Nat. I’ll see you later.

Kicking the sheets off of my body, I step out of my room.