The Desert Mimic

Grandfather warned me never to whistle in the desert at night. I thought it

was just superstition. Last summer, camping alone, I heard my sister calling from

the darkness. Perfect mimicry. Then I heard it. A second voice.

My own voice. Calling back to her. They were talking, using our memories.

I recorded it with shaking hands. Next morning, I called her. She'd had the

same nightmare. Both of us, calling for help. In the background of that recording,

beneath our voices... there was whistling. Now, sometimes late at night,

I hear myself whistling songs I never learned.