My Brother Hid a Recording Module Beneath His Daughter’s Dining Chair
“Do you like the rabbit’s ears or its feet better?” he asked.
“Ears,” she whispered.
“Good answer.” He stood, shook my hand hard, and looked past me at the waiting room, at the doors, at the dark beyond them.
In the exam room he was slow about it.
He asked permission before he touched her sleeve, and she held her arm out herself, straight, like a girl showing a teacher her work.
He rolled the sleeve up, looked for a long while, and said nothing.
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