It only takes a second of searching to see where the feeling is coming from. Across the aisle and a row kitty-corner behind us. The breath is knocked completely out of me as my eyes connect with Joan Wellesley’s. Now the only skin peeling from a body is my own. She’s doing it to me, peeling me layer by layer with only her gaze, and it hurts. It hurts to remember what happened last summer. It’s shocking to see her.
