"The wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round..."
Louise flashed a quick half-smile at the little girl sitting next to her. Then she turned and looked out the window as tears welled up in her eyes. She silently berated herself for choosing to sit next to the girl, despite the fact that there were quite a few empty seats in the front. The silly nursery rhyme brought her back to her childhood, when she used to sing the song together with Poppy. Louise chanced another quick glance at the little girl, and was startled by the resemblance to Poppy. But then again, every child reminded her of Poppy.
She studied the little girl who was concentrating on the little toy bus she had in her hands. Two women sat next to the girl, for the most part ignoring her. She found herself reaching out to touch the girl's flaxen hair, to touch her cheek just to make sure she was real.
Louise sometimes had dreams of Poppy, so vivid she would often think that she could smell and touch her, but each time she reached out, the spectre would dismiss into nothing. She only hoped the same was of her sister's remnants.
She often dreamt that she was in the cemetery, and Poppy would always appear. Sweet, sweet Poppy, now reduced to dust and bones. Poppy would always beckon Louise to follow her, and they would walk to her grave, and Louise would read the tiny tombstone with the words "Poppy Wakesfield, Beloved Daughter and Sister, Born 13th July 1984 --- 15th December 1998, R.I.P.". Then she would turn around to speak to the girl, but she would meet contact with a pair of hands that would push her into oblivion. The last thing that remained...