The Forgetting

by Hannah Beckerman

The music weaves between my ribs, tightens its fist around my heart. ‘Where have I heard it before?’

His voice is muffled in my ears, as though a pair of conch shells are being held against my head, all other sounds distorted by the swell of a raging sea.

But sometimes being scared of something is precisely the reason you need to do it.

And yet, in spite of the resolution to their conflict, somewhere beneath the wall

of Livvy’s chest, a caged bird flapped its wings.

only once. There’s always a second time.’