[12]

Dear Harmony,

   While riffling through a box of old photographs in your room (the smaller box on top of the desk), I came across a picture of us. It was taken the day we went to Thrill City Amusement Park last year; we paid for our tickets all by ourselves with money from our first jobs. 

   We had such fun that day, you and I—even if I did get sick on a few of the rides. You told me not to eat so much beforehand. I didn't listen.

   I should have listened.

   Studying this picture, I paid particular attention to your stance and your eyes, looking to see if maybe your body language would give any indication as to why you left. But no matter how deeply I looked, I could only find traces of happiness. You were happy. And that is a frustrating reality because you wouldn't leave if you were happy. What snuffed your happiness like a delicate candle flame? Is it something I did? Or did you do something nobody knows about, and in order to keep it under wraps, you felt compelled to disappear with no evidence?

   I should have listened. You may not believe me when I say this, but I would often tune you out when you spoke for too long. It's just something I do to cope with information overload. Maybe that's how I missed something regarding your desire to cut ties and float away like a kite in a storm.

   Even your mother does not know why you left. She is genuinely concerned, as is all of your family. It probably made them uncomfortable but I've interrogated all of them thoroughly; they have no idea what has become of you. I hope you have not been kidnapped.

   Did you know they have sent out a search team?