The world unfolds according to a logic most strange when you’re a child, and it wouldn’t do any good to try to parse it. If a house has claws, a house has claws. This is another fact in your database of facts: oatmeal is sticky and worms are the same pink-gray color of Grandmother’s tongue and winged insects fly unless you clap one between your palms as hard as you can and then it’s still, still as a girlboy under xer blankets hiding from the figure watching in xer room.
