Tom thought of Maya. He knew there had to be some record if she had died in that tornado. Yet, he was reluctant to find out.
He wanted to imagine Maya and her family escaped. Escaped and moved somewhere else.
So many times he’d think of doing a search, then stop, because he wasn’t ready.
He loved Maya, wanted to imagine they would meet again. Maybe at that supermarket, or that petrol station.
Maybe he’d see her walking on the road.
Maybe she’d write him a letter.