Jacobs Ladder -

Leo touched the lowest rung. It was cold and dry, like bone in shade. When he put his weight on it, the ladder didn’t creak. Instead, he heard Maya’s laugh—not a recording, but the actual, live sound of it, rising up through his own chest.

He just reaches over, touches Maya’s sleeping shoulder, and whispers:

“Of me.”

The Ascent of Broken Things

“And if I climb off the top?”

She was twelve. She was wearing the same purple hoodie from the day she vanished. And she was crying.

He grabbed her wrist. Felt her pulse.

“I know,” she said. “I felt every rung.”