My Husband and My Mother Poisoned Us and Put Us in the Ground. They Forgot One Thing: I Woke Up First

A phone that a panicking man shoved into the wrong pocket.

A grave dug shallow enough, in soil loose enough, that a whisper of signal could still find its way down through it.

A battery with three percent of its life left instead of none.

A dispatcher who chose, against every reasonable instinct, to believe a woman claiming to be calling from inside a coffin.

Any one of those threads missing, and I would not be here to tell you this.

It should frighten me, how thin the margin was — and sometimes, in the worst hours, it does.