The applause was a roaring sea, but it wasn’t for me. Not really. I stood on the stage, the black graduation gown draped just so, the gold tassel brushing against my cheek. When the announcer called my name, “Samantha Reed, Master’s in Clinical Psychology,” I walked forward with my chin high and
a smile stretched tight across my face. Cameras flashed, but none of them belonged to my family. Their seats—five of them, right in the middle row—sat empty. A gaping, deliberate void.
I’d known they wouldn’t be here. They were, at that very moment, clinking champagne glasses to celebrate my younger sister