Most of the drive home, I was completely oblivious as to what she was saying. I would response to her with the occasional "Yeah." "Cool." "Really? Nic....". All I had in mind was Kimberly. When I came home my parents bombarded my sister with questions. It was more like an interrogation so I stepped in and saved my sister from a beating. "Michelle and I were too drunk to drive and we didn't have a designated driver so we spent the night." To my surprise, mom looked puzzled for a moment and said. Sunday morning, Angelina went into her small kitchen and ate her canolli, enjoying the sweet ricotta cream as it rolled around her mouth. Once, she would have been in church, listening to the priest talk about the love of God and his mercy for sinners but since Phillip’s death, the idea of going to church faded away with her memory of him. The knowledge that she was forgetting the sound of his voice, the scent of his body, the twinkle in his eye was just as frightening as the race every month. More

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