have felt this kind of frenzied focus before. But the end of all that effort came to nothing. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t save my home. We were forced to flee, Hank forced me to flee. And I saw, in my effort—and Hank’s lack of effort—a simple truth I did not want to acknowledge. He did not love our home like I loved it. Not even the garden we grew together. He did not love it like it was his body back up on the hill, burning.
