I picked up the stick with a trembling hand. Slowly, I drew a line—long, curved, encompassing all the frames, with a delicate point at the bottom. Then one in the middle, slightly upturned at the edges. And at last, I drew two more shapes near the top. Eyes. One green, in the center of the shape on the left. The other silver. The shapes weren’t a map, or an island, or a code. They were the boundaries where tan skin met white. They were a face. Tisaanah’s face.
Shatter me again, baby
