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It’s an isolated shack—and it’s literally falling down

There is a twirling line of s around outside Laundry dries on the line My eyes linger momentarily on the row of thin, ripped panties, before I swiftly look away “Let’s ”

My father nods in agreeer

There is soht now I’ht under his nose A wrench in the engine that could hurt ht between defending his wife and being contrite But we e control

The three of us exit the li the way up the rotted porch, toward the front door of the shack Is this where she lived in the early days of her e? Christ If so, she’s definitely leveled up with olf course in Hartford A stiff wind could knock this place to the ground

Rebecca knocks, but there is no answer

She tries the door and finds it unlocked, walking inside, calling her daughter’s name

“Cate? Cate, are you here?”

My father follows his wife into the home

I’h

It’s a warht sound So full and ethereal, I can’t tell which direction it’s co fro the low hanging tree branches that scrape the roof of the shack

For sos at my pulse

A pulse that seldom rises for any reason There is no question a reporter can spew at me that I don’t kno to answer There is no crisis that can’t be dealt with At thirty, I’overnor in the country—and the hardest to rile Or catch off guard

There is no reason a girl’s laughter should haveso heavily, the lump in my throat barely makes it past my knotted tie

Frowning, I reversethe sound Co frorove of crowded trees Moonlight reaches in through the branches, guidinglouder Closer Until I reach a clearing

Even before I step out into the athers inaround irlishlike it