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

But mostly, now, it does the opposite.

Because if the line between our death and our survival was truly that fine, made of nothing but a dropped phone and a flicker of signal and a stranger’s decision to believe the unbelievable, then our survival was never something my enemies had fully in their control, however carefully they planned.

There is always a loose thread.

There is always a flickering bar.

The people who bury you cannot account for everything, because no one can account for everything, and the small overlooked mercies of the world do not answer to them.