“Lena,” she said. Not who are you? Not where’s my daughter? Just her name, clear as a bell.
The old woman nodded slowly, watching the silver water. “Then we’d better make it last.” Better Days
“Where are we going, love?” Grace asked, her voice a soft, frayed thing. “Lena,” she said
Grace smiled—a real smile, the kind that used to light up whole rooms. “Which one?” love?” Grace asked