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"Corabelle, when I was at your apart to find the words

My brain raced What ht he have found? I didn’t keep a journal I never left any clues about what I did

"I took out your trash"

I knehere this was going "You found the bags"

"With holes in them"

I picturedup into the plastic "It’s a quirk I have"

"Why do you do it?"

"It’s hard to explain"

"Try"

"I had a rough ti my eyes shut

He reached for reed "I had been doing this thing when I got distressed, where I hyperventilate until I sort of…black out"

"Like pass out? All the way? Unconscious?"

I nodded

He expelled his breath in a rush "Okay"

"And one night, that night, I guess I thought I would take it a step further, with the bag"

"Corabelle…"

I turned to hi the distress all over his face "It was okay My body saved itself But since then, I just didn’t want the teers to his lips, war to be here from now on"

"I know I’ll be fine"

"When was the last tis? Not since that one ti out"

My chest hurt so much more with his question To lie? Or tell the truth? "Friday"

"Here? In the hospital?"

"Yes"