immie

He and Jule had been handling Immie’s death from the London end.

“That girl looks like Immie,” Forrest said, pointing to an actress on the screen.

“She just has short hair. People think I look like Immie, too, from a distance.”

“It’s good you like it here,” Immie said as she fished the last slice out, “because there was a part of living with Forrest that was like—being alone. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because he’s writing a novel, or because he’s older than I am. But it’s better with you here.”

Immie trailed her fingers across the top of the water.