two agonizing weeks. I spent every waking moment by the riverbank, calling her name until my voice was a jagged rasp. But the water remained silent, and the mud refused to yield its secrets. Eventually, the official search was called off, and Teresa was declared deceased. The finality of that word felt like a physical blow, a weight that threatened to crush the very air from my lungs.
I remember the funeral with a hollow clarity. I stood before a polished wooden casket, knowing all the while that it held
