I Don't Talk About My Books While

Closed My Eyes And Listened. It Was Like Music I'd Heard All My Life, Even More Than "this Lullaby." All Those Keystrokes, All Those Letters, So Many Words. I Brushed My Fingers Over The Beads And Watched As Her Image Rippled, Like It Was On Water, Breaking Apart Gently And Shimmering Before Becoming Whole Again.

It's So, So Stupid What We Do To Ourselves Because We're Afraid. It's So Stupid.

I Was Tired Of Hanging On, Taking The Torn Pieces To Make Something Whole With Them.

Like A Blinking Cursor On An Empty Page, It Was Just The First Thing. The Beginning Of The Beginning. But At Least It Was Done.

Hollis " I Said "you're Messing With Me Right Now Aren't You You're In Paris Or Somewhere And Just-" "what " He Replied. "no This Is The Real Deal. Here I'll Prove It." There Was A Muffled Noise Followed By Some Static. Then I Heard My Mother Recite At A Distance In Her Most Droll Flat Tone "yes. It Is True. Your Brother Is In Love And In My Kitchen.