It's like a marble, she whispers, leaning in closer still.
She's ensorcelled by it, this simple bit of natural world,
As I am, in my own way, ensorcelled by her.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. Are you Eunice Bond? Did you go to Shepherd High School in Isabella County?"
"Yes, that's me…"
"My name is Aggie Warfield. My grandmother was Penelope War— her maiden name was Adler. Penelope Adler?"
The woman's face lit up. "Oh, my goodness, Penny Adler. Come in dear, come in…"
As Eunice closed the door behind them, the girl continued, "I was wondering if you'd kept any pictures from back then, maybe something with my gran? I know it's been a long—"
"The only thing I have is the yearbook, it'd be right there on the shelf." She shook her head. "But they came and erased her, years ago."
"The government, dear, the Department Of The Army. During the war. Two agents came, took all the loose photos. They left the yearbook, just smudged her out."
"Oh, Lord, dear, you didn't ask why during the war…"
I didn't have a room growing up, not as such.
My father invented a thing, a space and time thing. I don't know how it works. To listen to him try to explain it to people, he doesn't quite know how it works either.
I slept out on the Serengeti, so long as I could show Mother that no predators would pass by my chosen spot that night. I slept in a crook halfway up a Sequoia, after I'd shown Father I could secure my bed to the trunk, and myself to the bed.
Better than a room, I think.