The crashing into isn’t like a bang or cracking sound like it is when Daddy hi-, when he hits Momma or when I run into the wall. It’s the whooshing sound I hear. And I’m glad. I’m happy it makes a different noise, ‘cause it’s kinda pretty and I like that. I like it when pretty things don’t make the sounds that remind me of the scary stuff. The stuff with the bad man.
