
I turned on my side when I heard the gentle flick of the light switch.
There used to be a fireplace in the living room of what had become just my dad’s house…
There there, my father says to the crying baby he is rocking in his arms…
When I was three, I cut my hair with safety scissors just to hear the sound of the blade.
She came to me looking like a dried-up ball of rotting twine.
The stove is hot enough to hiss. Around me, the house shifts in its sleep.