The space where she'd been filled in quickly. Empty is not the natural state of things, so life closed around the specter of her memory with ease. That nothing much changed revealed how little of significance she had displaced. Forty-six of the most meaningless chromosomes ever to be paired. Didn't she know it.

The last in a long line of would-be saviors stood stunned, still clutching his fistful of curling, writhing lies. She wouldn't do that. She's not that selfish. But a heart torn by shock can knit itself back together faster than one torn by pain, and the lies didn't have much bite left, anyway. By spring a vigorous program of forgiveness (the self and the other) muscled out her ghost completely. Everyones knows: spring is no time for looking back.