It was her new understanding of what she had seen coming out of the place where her husband’s eyes had been, from the glands where his tears would come from. It wasn’t a dented crystal, nor a misplaced grain of sleep. Not the lost edge of one of his teeth, emerging from a body that had lost sense of itself. Louise had seen two tiny, questing fingernails emerging from her husband’s tear ducts. When she allowed herself to remember, as the water exceeded the glass and poured coolly over her hand, she could see the pink flesh behind those nails, a vital colour totally absent from Edward’s face,
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