They Thought To Use And Shame Me

Giving Papa Time To Think, As Arty Put It, Was Like Pumping Random Rounds Into A Fireworks Factory. The Odds Favored Dramatic Results.

It Is, I Suppose, The Common Grief Of Children At Having To Protect Their Parents From Reality. It Is Bitter For The Young To See What Awful Innocence Adults Grow Into, That Terrible Vulnerability That Must Be Sheltered From The Rodent Mire Of Childhood.

He Must Love Me, I Thought, Amazed. A Faint Whiff Of Nausea Hit Me At Seeing Pain As Proof Of Love, But It Seemed True. Unavoidable.

My Worst Is All Out In The Open. It Makes It Necessary For People To Tell You About Themselves.

Oh, Of Course, I Always Feel Unconfident.