Snake-Eater

by T. Kingfisher

It was the simple kind of crazy, though, the can’t-cope-anymore crazy, the kind that has you bursting into tears at small setbacks and contemplating your own mortality with sneaking relief. You could fake your way through life with that kind of crazy.

“Ain’t the size that matters, as I used to tell my second husband.

“It was a small kindness you did,” they said. “But you and I are both small creatures, are we not? So the kindnesses feel larger.”