When The Music Is Over, She Keeps

Did They Find Something Wanting In You, Gemma, At The Party? You Didn’t Speak Too Freely Or Behave…strangely?” I Grew Claws And Bayed At The Moon. I Confessed That I Eat The Hearts Of Small Children. I Told Them I Like The French.

For Once, Evie Didn’t Know What To Say. She Hadn’t Really Thought Of Her Uncle As Very Human. He Was More Like A Textbook Who Occasionally Remembered To Put On A Tie. But It Was Clear That He Was, Indeed, Human, With A Deep Wound Named Rotke.

But Aren't Many Gardens Beautiful Because They Are Imperfect?...aren't The Strange, New Flowers That Arise By Mistake Or Misadventure As Pleasing As The Well-tended And Planned?

All Morning, Spence Has Been A Well-oiled Machine Of Activity. Everyone Doing Her Bit, Quietly And Efficiently. It's Strange How Deliberate People Are After A Death. All The Indecision Suddenly Vanishes Into Clear, Defined Moments--changing The Linens, Choosing A Dress Or A Hymn, The Washing Up, The Muttering Of Prayers. All The Small, Simple, Conscious Acts Of Living A Sudden Defense Against The Dying We Do Every Day.

I'm Going To Eviscerate You And Leave Your Organs On A Pike In The Yard As A Warning To Those Who Wear Large Jewelry.