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“Sylvia leans against the railing of her porch, keeping a lookout for the little girl. She can hear Jamie’s anger echo in the night. The shrillness of his tires on the hot summer pavement, the sting of his words. She sighs, knowing that like a flood this was inevitable and that it would happen again and again and all that would remain would be bruises and teeth and a half drunk beers where there shouldn’t be. This is always how it is with Jamie—a hurricane, a flood, a natural disaster. A mess, but never a mess as cruel as tonight. She has to cut him out. She can climb on her own.” — Erin Emily Ann Vance
Sylvia leans against the railing of her porch, keeping a lookout for the little girl. She can hear Jamie’s anger echo in the night. The shrillness of his tires on the hot summer pavement, the sting of his words. She sighs, knowing that like a flood this was inevitable and that it would happen again and again and all that would remain would be bruises and teeth and a half drunk beers where there shouldn’t be. This is always how it is with Jamie—a hurricane, a flood, a natural disaster. A mess, but never a mess as cruel as tonight. She has to cut him out. She can climb on her own.