One night, we roasted a chicken and had our chests bare and we ripped that hot chicken apart with our wicked little hands—we didn’t even wait for plates. We didn’t even think about plates. We were honest-to-god female animals with each other and I felt that, because of how we floored it like that, we could be animals with the other animals, too. I saw it clearly: One woman could go outside and sit on a rock and a fox could come and sit next to her and put its paw on her back the way a buddy does to encourage another buddy or to apologize for losing a temper. They would look at the sunset
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