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360 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 12, 2021
Grown where you’re planted, the saying goes, but everything withers and dies here in winter. Even in summer, it’s winter for me. It’s been winter for eight years. I have long since shed my petals and burrowed beneath the layer of snow that smothers this place.
Some days I feel like I’m made of glass, my clothes and my hair and my downturned eyes the only things that stop the light from getting in, from showing the world what’s happening within me. Who’s touched me. Who’s been inside me.
Nobody can ever know the things I’ve done.