Sara Rice has cerebral palsy. I assumed because she had a disease she was a kind person, in the way we are all, when confronted by the headlights of death, prioritized. I introduced her to my friends, cooked her a meal from a centuries-old recipe. Sara Rice belittled my interests, hit on my boyfriend, ripped off my front bumper with her bare hands. I asked why she did it. She said she wanted to see if she could. Sara, I don’t know where you are these days. I’m sorry I failed to imagine you.
