By Will Shadbolt
I was with Jessica from the day she died. After that, I remained glued to her life, only in reverse. I watched her wrinkles fade away, her drinking problem vanish.
I saw her at the funerals of her two daughters and husband, and when she received the phone call about the car crash.
I observed this new trio carefully, their wide smiles.
The girls always asked, begged Jessica to spend less time at work.
I wanted to reach out, but I could only watch. “Spend more time with them, Jessica, please,” I whispered.
But I already knew the future.