The Silent Girl--Prologue

Sunlight streams through the glass doors, falling across the black and white tile in patterns of fractured gold. Dust motes dance through the rays, twirling and spinning, acrobats moving in defiance of gravity. It is beautiful--the sort of everyday beautiful that you never really notice until something opens your eyes to it.

She was like that. Like motes of dust dancing through amber rays--silent, beautiful and invisible until caught in the right light.

I didn't notice it though. Not until it was too late.

And by the time the light hit her, she was gone.

Now only a memory remains. A memory of the girl I could have--should have--saved, but didn't.