Demon Copperhead

by Barbara Kingsolver

We both lay back down, and she looked at me in the eyes, and we were sad together for a while. I’ll never forget how that felt. Like not being hungry.

Damn April to hell, I could be done with that one. November also. Birthdays, Christmas, dogwoods and redbuds, even football season. Live long enough, and all things you ever loved can turn around to scorch you blind. The wonder is that you could start life with nothing, end with nothing, and lose so much in between.

Ain’t no hill for a climber, I thought,

We were quiet for a minute. I warmed myself on a little bonfire of remembered ridiculousness, and hoped she was doing the same.