I wanted to speak to you first. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. My, um, my curfew. I have hurt and snubbed poor Teddy.
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