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The Cup I Didn’t Drink

Zora was mine.

Later, when the danger reached even into her apartment, she would be the one who barricaded a door and screamed out a window and kept my daughter alive.

I have stopped trying to thank her adequately.

There isn’t a way.

Chapter 8 — Don’t Drink That

The next morning Mireille set the fresh cup in front of me at the table, proud as ever, and I lifted it toward my lips to play along — and Elspeth came bounding in.

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