March 20, 2016

“After the melting came the raining. We kept the house sealed up so that the wet and dry would not join us inside. Mother spent every day in front of the windows. She licked the panes. She placed her palms against the glass and begged for the raining to take her. Mother was tired of the house. The hallways were too narrow, the rooms more like boxes. Mother howled into the windows and sometimes, shrill voices answered back. Father covered the windows with thick curtains. He did not want what was outside in the rain to look in upon us. Mother lay comatose upon the couch. She looked up at the ceiling but said nothing.”

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