but one thing is true: people change. They hide it at first. So there are pinfeathers pressing out between your ribs: you pluck them. So there’s a second row of teeth coming up through your gums: you pull them. So you’re sick—terribly, mortally sick: you lie. Claws can be hidden in boots, gills beneath thick scarves. You can puke in private, with no one to hold back your hair.
