Raffi wanders around the neighborhood, but she’s forgotten the trick to being alone. A dog snarls at her, the crows overhead scream. She goes back to the pink house, but she’s afraid of all the emptiness inside, so she sits in the yard and plucks puffball mushrooms and squishes them between her thumb and forefinger, and thinks at each one your fault, stupid, bad and the mushrooms send up tiny apologetic clouds and she doesn’t feel any better.
