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.