She didn’t turn back because she wanted to return. She turned back to see whether the things she had survived were still following her. The eyes behind her carry the parts of the past that never learned how to disappear one watches, another mourns, another has lost its voice. She keeps her chest covered, as if some wounds no longer need an audience, while the red fabric trails behind her like the last thread connecting her to the life she is leaving. Some chapters don’t end when we close them. They end when we finally stop looking back.