Tears cloud Trista’s eyes. So many people sing “Happy Birthday” to her daughter for her 24th birthday.
Gracie rests her head on her mom’s shoulder and Trista hears her as a five-year-old again. “The angels take me away on my 24th birthday.”
Gracie still believes she’ll die.
Has she told any of her singing friends?
They release their paper lanterns into the night.
“See. Still alive,” Trista says as they watch the lanterns drift away.
Gracie smiles.
Tomorrow, she will not wake. Angels are sometimes late.