I told her about the black room. Licking corn-fritter crumbs off her elegant fingers, she said, “Listen to me, odd one.” “I’m all ears.” “They’re big, but they’re not all of you. Open them wide now and hear this: Don’t go in that black room again.” “It doesn’t exist anymore.” “Don’t even go looking for it, hoping it’ll come back.” “That never even crossed my mind.” “Yes, it did,” she said.
