Megan Charlop

The first thing you noticed was the color of Meg’s hair. No one had hair like hers – a deep, rich red-orange. As she got older, her hair weathered into a softer rust-red laced with gold.

Then you’d notice Meg’s big hazel eyes, that smile beaming at you from her open, round, face.

I’m sitting here trying to reconstruct a life from this poor excuse of mine for a memory. I resent needing to do this. I’m furious at the injustice of her absence.