In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

30 visiting sPringfiELD in WintEr Camphor steam followed my older sister when she came outside to play. I showed her icicles, then we tossed snowballs. Except when I had to say hello then goodbye to the coughing woman, limp flesh on blue bedding, I’d spent the day studying snow. I had some questions, but I had no words to speak to the woman. No words to ask my father, who drove home, fast and silent, through the tail-lit night, if she was someone I should love. On the road, we hit black ice. Our tilt-a-whirl sent me into giggles until I caught, thrown from Dad’s orphaned eyes, a freezing thing I’d never touched before. ...

Share