An excerpt of what I'm reading at tonight's event:
Nails never
cried about what happened to Raffie, how we neglected her, how she died in
the backyard without being noticed for nearly a day. She never even talked
about our dog. It was as if she’d never existed, that she didn’t spend more
than a decade as part of her family. And maybe in Nails’ mind, she didn’t. She
was just some piece of the backyard, something akin to the pool and built-in
barbecue.
She
wasn’t she. She was an It.
Just
like me.
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