Was it loud?” “Oh, absolutely.” “And did it get kind of high-pitched at the end?” Where is this going? “Actually, yeah. A little bit.” “Then you can’t forget, because that’s what yours sounds like,” he says. His words clutch at my throat. I stare up at him, gaping, as he moves us to the melody Gram’s laughter drowned out more than once. “I could hear you down the hall most days, Shepard. Your laugh shook the walls until it went into dog whistle mode.”
