you? Was this some sort of unsaid apology? The soldiers grunted, muttered to themselves in their own language, and yet they were very thorough, even womanly, in their attentions. The powder would pile up, crystalline like snow, and the children would play in it, flinging it at each other, and now they were crying, for the lime was hitting their eyes, and all you could think is Good, because the less they see when they end comes, the easier it will be for them.
It was a blizzard, with youthful mispronun-ciation I called them nor'eaters, the snowflakes fat and lazy and beautiful, and my mother was yelling at me about something -- no memory, only observation: her face spread out and giant, she was accusing me, something about a lost item, one of many lost items, I never stole anything, I would appropriate, replace or hide or reformat, but never steal. She didn't believe, she
 | | never did. I was supposed to be silent and assenting, that was the best way to survive, it didn't matter to my mother where you are, if you can't listen and nod, if you disease yourself with opinions, then life will be unhappy. So she left to get groceries in her wisp of a hatchback, and on the icy road, a block away from our building, a school bus skidded into her. The entire passenger side of her car was crushed, she was pinned under the steering wheel, but all in all, just a busted kneecap. As the driver side window was bashed open to pull her out, bits of glass scored her face. The next-door neighbors carried her up all ten flights of stairs, gaining onlookers and followers as they went, footsteps and voices and shouts mounting those steps, Take her to the hospital, no we're taking her home first, she needs help, no she's fine we just need to get her medical card … With that mass of noise and motion, it was a veritable social movement, but
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