The Murmur of Bees

by Sofía Segovia

the fabric she had ordered for the girls’ ball gowns

anymore. My father might never have understood that episode, his wife’s “breakdown,” but his wife certainly understood him. Calm now—comforted by her armchair and in particular by her reunion with the hope of life, new clothes, future sons-in-law, and grandchildren—

did not want to sew, though that did not surprise her: they had never liked it. They did not want

in complete darkness, to be certain none of them remained lit, especially in her daughters’ bedroom. While she was there, she would tuck them in, even when it

changed. It turned cold, and with the

wanting