A high, white noise begin to keen between my ears. Panic? Glee? Bloodlust? Who’s to say? What’s the difference, really?
Could this be the window?!
I mean, it could be closing right now. What if Susan is, in fact, in the tent right now telling Bill? What if Bill is, in fact, on his way? What if the next minute, the next thirty seconds, is the last unwatched moment I will ever have with this man? What if the universe is doing the thing it’s been doing for me lately—handing me the same gift twice, dressed up a little differently each time—and this is it?
Here you go, Cassandra. Here he is. He came to you.
A hunting accident. How clean is that?
A tragic, unspeakable hunting accident. A wife, untrained, clumsy with cold, mishandling a firearm she should never have been allowed to hold in t
