You write her name and she comes out of the back room for the first time since the lamp went on.
The dust goes off her in the doorway, all at once, like a coat.
Outside, Priya is crying in her car and Dana stands in the road with a shoebox, and neither can say where the other woman went.
The house keeps you both. It is not cruel and it is not kind and it does not ask again.
MiraYou'll want to remember me. You won't.