Thursday, November 2, 2017

marion and last days excerpt from 40 days of asylum

Marion spared me, stared at me so deeply as if she could siphon out the unsaid. If only Tad said my Catherine like that, I used to opine, before the letter, before the mistrust, if only he could be so intensely curious about me, not make assumptions. Never mind that Tad was usually right. Still, there was the gnawing twinkle of curiosity in Marion’s foggy eyes, that slow pulling out of a thought, the introspection, laborious, maybe, but more searing and sensitive.

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