The Flour Girl
It is a way of moving through the world that keeps you braced and safe and also, quietly, robs you of an enormous amount of joy, because a person who can read a wish list as a crime map is a person who has trained herself, without meaning to, to find the shadow in almost anything.
Chapter 13 — Texting Margot
Some small, sane corner of me was still trying, even then, to conjure a wholesome explanation, still whispering that surely, surely there was an innocent version of all this.
I shoved that corner aside and did what a person of my temperament does in a crisis.
I texted my sister.
I snapped a clear photo of the plastic bags spread across the floor and sent it straight to Margot with the message: “Margot, look at what I just pulled out from under the guest bed!” Three loading dots appeared instantly, my sister being, as always, glued to her phone.
Then her reply detonated onto my screen.