I love her. You won’t believe me, but it’s true. It’s not my fault everything’s backwards, that her pain wakes my senses and in her joy I fade away. Maybe it would have been different if she’d rescued me from Heaven, but she didn’t. She pulled me up from Hell on the end of a yellow plastic sand shovel, when she was eight years old and I was fresh dead.
Teaser for new novel project – “These are not my ears”