“I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE,” THE GIRL WHISPERS. The ice shards in her voice shatter the pressing silence. She squeezes her eyes shut, light leaking from between the lids, cascading down her face. As her spirit slips away I frown. Her skin is peeling, falling; snowflakes or a broken soul on the wind. I watch her hands tremble. Tiny tremors that could destroy everything. The chariot is coming, sparkling in the sunlight. It’s a beautiful mask they hide behind. I want to tell her that it’ll be okay-- I want to tell her many things. Examine her life, memory by memory, until I learn this girl. But I can’t. Not for the others, not for her. No one speaks to the dead.