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that too. All without breaking. Was she like that lamp, or was
she the wall or the floor? Did she look solid, but was she, in
reality, so easy to break?
She felt easy to break.
She could just let Coralyn go. She could wait and see if she
came back to the house at seven. She could do nothing.
She threw off the blankets and got out of bed. She couldn’t
just do nothing.
She got dressed in record time, throwing on a blouse and
slacks and finding her heels. She’d go straight to the office
after she made her stop.
She headed out into the early morning, armed with the
documents Coralyn signed, a small box on top of those resting
on the passenger seat, and her work satchel where she had her
laptop and tablet and the other stuff she carted with her every
day. She’d chosen the sedan, the least flashy, most sturdy car
she owned. The same one she’d sent Coralyn out in. It was
snowing and the world seemed muffled and more beautiful for
it. Normally, she thought snow was a bother, an annoyance,
something that made the commute extra long and the streets
treacherous. It had been a long time since she’d seen the world
as anything else.
She knew that she needed to fix what was broken, and other
than work shit, she’d never been overly good at that. What an
understatement. Your life has been like a series of disastrous
train wrecks and nuclear explosions. She had to try anyway.
This time, she was pulled to Coralyn, not lured, not tricked by
some siren, but pulled by strands that tethered her soul.
She remembered that feeling she had in her chest the night
she learned the truth. She’d felt like she’d gotten close to her
