Fever Dream

by Samanta Schweblin

I call it the “rescue distance”: that’s what I’ve named the variable distance separating me from my daughter, and I spend half the day calculating it, though I always risk more than I should.

It’s happening, Amanda. I’m kneeling at the edge of your bed, in one of the rooms at the emergency clinic. We don’t have much time, and before time runs out we have to find the exact moment.

and just as I’d wondered a moment before how she could take that child’s hand, now I wonder how it’s possible to let go of it,

strange things always seem like warnings to me,

I’m very nervous, but doing things with my hands frees me from giving her explanations, it gives me time to think.

He doesn’t see the important thing: the rope finally slack, like a lit fuse, somewhere; the motionless scourge about to erupt.