“Why are you crying?” Liv whispered into my ear. I wondered the same thing, though I didn’t bother wiping away my tears. Together we watched the boys’ lips pick up speed, grow hot with fever. They moved with a new hunger, their fists swinging at random body parts, as if to beat away a more sinister pain. We loved them softly, in the way one can only love a wounded animal, fresh tire marks seared across its face. “Why are you crying?” she said again, this time tightening her grip.
