Porcelain

In the background, she talks to her grandmother, and I can hear her over the caterwauling of whatever song it is I’m listening to.  She talks and walks and turns on all the lights in the house because that is what she does, always, animated, even very late at night, while lightning flashes, and the ghost of a child huddles with the whisper of a kitten on the stairs, afraid of the thunder.

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