She turned her back.

She unbuttoned her blouse.

And Natalie did not gasp, and did not look away, and did not arrange her face into pity.

She stepped closer, and she asked, “May I touch them?” and Edith nodded, and Natalie laid her fingertips very softly against the thick scarred tissue near the old woman’s shoulder blade, and her voice broke apart completely.

“All of this,” she wept, “all of this should have been mine.” Edith turned.

“What are you saying?” “That fire was coming for me,” Natalie said.