They say I’m articulate. (I think about all the words that stay locked in my throat, and I give a small and terrified smile and look over their shoulder and into nothing at all.) I’m really quite lucky I have such a command of language. (There are maybe five people in the whole wide world I can talk to face-to-face without wanting to die, without having a panic attack, without needing to hurt myself or sleep for hours afterward. Two of them receive speech therapy. None of them obey the usual laws of dialogue. I know that, really, I’m lucky to have anyone at all.)
