don’t remember setting down the blue camp shirt.One moment I was sitting on Owen’s bed with the fabric pressed against my face, breathing in the last traces of him — sunscreen and something sweet I could never quite name, the particular scent of my child that I had been cataloguing desperately since the day my husband called me in a voice I didn’t recognize — and the next moment my phone was ringing and I was staring at the screen like it was speaking a language I had forgotten how to read.
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