ARRvol34 master reduced - Flipbook - Page 115
trons in her brain’s machinery conflates the smell of the paste in
Jude’s pants with the pain in her stomach and she looks at his very
light skin, which too becomes a thread in the tapestry of digestive
distress and olfactory offense. This happens because she does not
participate in right thinking.
Annabelle proceeds to the door, opens it and says to Annabelle,
“Yes?”
“You fed the boy?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Some—I gave him some vegetables.”
“Some vegetables?”
“Yes, Mom. Some broccoli.”
Annabelle the Elder’s lip curls slightly, and she squints very tightly
against the green tinting at the creases of her eyelids. She rolls her
current cigar between two fingers of her left hand. “You had bacon
this morning?”
“Ruth doesn’t want him having bacon, Mom.”
“Give him bacon.”
“I’m washing the dishes.”
Annabelle the Elder has not looked at the Younger yet, but rather
has addressed her remarks to the shadows between her gaze and
her trees, allowing that proximity and air will carry her words to her
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