I kissed my wife goodbye and watched her drive off to work

she finally spoke, was a raw whisper.

“Her name is Clara.”

And then the story came tumbling out, a torrent of guilt and grief she had held inside for fifteen years.

Sarah and Clara were inseparable, two halves of a whole.

They shared everything—clothes, friends, secrets.

When they were sixteen, they were driving home from a party.

Sarah was behind the wheel.continue reading …