It's as though the words are trapped, buried under past fears, past lives, like fossils compressed under layers of dirt.

“I want to be healed and whole and perfect again, like a misshapen slab of iron …”

“A sharp blade of sadness goes through me, deep and quick. I guess it was bound …”

“The guard's name was Mo, short for Molasses, as in slow as molasses or thick as…”

“Lena.” Alex’s voice is stronger, more forceful now, and it finally stops me.He …”