I touch the magnolias woven through a deer’s antlers. “Just the flowers.” He gives me a little look. “You know I love a flower.” “Two dead bees.” I eyeball them on his right hand. “Not my favourite.” He grimaces. “Fuck NYC.” I trace over it with my finger and he just watches me with heavy eyes. “What else?” He flashes me the index and middle finger of his right hand. Index finger: Carver. Middle: Hunnisett. Our school houses at Varley.
