Shayna
Prentice once told me a sad story. It was the saddest story I ever heard,
and its shattered edges still hurt every time I think about it. It’s so sad
that I’ve always declined to tell it to anybody else, and will continue to do
so. Sad stories have to rest somewhere, and I accept responsibility.
* * *
Meanwhile, the freezing east wind has also taken up
occupation with me. It’s currently exploring every room in my house, which,
even by its own inimitable standards, is unusually cold tonight. Winter won’t
go to sleep this year. It doesn’t even seem tired.
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