I want to tell her about Mama. I want to tell her everything that I might say but – She shuts the door. It seems to be her way: she’ll open it just enough to dazzle me – with a smile, a word, a shower of laughing stars – and then she slams it shut again. She is a closed door. &n...
He’s pulled me into the ditch and is trying to stop the bleeding with the towel from his pack. I’m not mad any more but I’m not cooperating either. I can hear France screaming inside my head, like she did that night her father died, and I am matching her for breath and volume. I started up as soo...