A piece of deeply held knowledge she has been storing without meaning to. U2 song lyrics, the date of the Battle of Hastings, her father’s mortality. All of it information held by her body, whether her brain wants to keep it or not. Maggie hands back the letter and watches Heron pin it on the board. “I see,” she says, because she does. Afterward, they sit down again. The same people they have always been. Sitting at the same table. New information leaving a vapor trail across their conversation.
