She was a kid.
She was dying.
Everyone knew, and yet no one would say it.
Her mother asked that no one tell her child what was going on.
I saw her after her surgery, her head wrapped like a genie, sitting on her bed.
Her mother wanted me to promise I would not tell her.
I told the mother I would not lie if asked.
The comet hung in the sky like a jewel that summer 20 years ago.
It was evening.
I was tired.
The mother was tired
The child was dying.
I asked the other if I could take her child to a room where the comet was visible.
The mother said OK.
She did not come along.
I knew what I would say if the child asked.
The mother knew as well.
And the child never asked.
But she saw the comet.
The last one she saw.
Not the last one I saw.
And Hale-Bopp makes me sad every time I see a photo.
She never asked so she could protect the adults around her.