Year of publication: 2016
Jacqueline Druga UNDER THE GRAY SKIES One Backpack The flesh on her right hand and wrist was discolored, hard and cold as it extended out from the wall of wreckage. It was all that remained of my sister. All that I could see. I held on to that hand for days, just holding it, crying, until I could no longer hold her hand because the flesh would rot off against my own fingers. How I survived was a mystery. There had been no moment of regret, no sudden fear, no final thoughts screaming in my mind, ...