differently each day now, but it’s all still there—the lies, the truth, the names, the living and the dead. She clears her throat— sometimes it’s hard to swallow. Here comes the wineglass, its contents trembling inside her crumpled fist.
differently each day now, but it’s all still there—the lies, the truth, the names, the living and the dead. She clears her throat— sometimes it’s hard to swallow. Here comes the wineglass, its contents trembling inside her crumpled fist.