The police haven’t found Cassie yet, and I woke up thinking, “Maybe it’s just a mean hoax; maybe she ran away.” In half-sleep you are vulnerable to irrational but hopeful thoughts. But in the bright light of day, it just looks the same, or worse, than it did the day before. I want there to be peace for her suffering family, and the longer the wait the worse it is. There’s no closure, and a person is likely to feel what I felt this morning: “She’ll come back, there’s still hope, ” even though we all know this isn’t real.

Fate can be terribly cruel. I wish there was something I could do, but there is nothing.

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