Some other woman had given my father a child and how it must’ve knifed her seeing me every day. Whatever troubles she had conceiving might’ve been...repaired had it not been for me. I blindly walked out the front door, no destination in mind. Where does one go when the very foundations of the world have so thoroughly destroyed? I hadn’t realized until she stripped the blinders from my eyes, how much I had identified myself as Penelope Elizabeth Hardy, daughter to John and Mary Hardy. Now I felt. We walk out of this small room, through a door and into what could easily have been a school corridor, there is no carpet, a green and mauve tile, which is cold against my feet. "So, you must be a student." Yes," And what do you study?" I'm reading psychology." Of course, fascinating. It's just down here."I follow her, or I walk next her, my hands swing, my legs step one on front of the other, I can smell the faint drift of her perfume, her shampoo, her shoes clack against the tiles, my bare. More

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