ABSTRACT
We sit on a wooden bench near the front hallway and I try not to notice the hairs growing on her chin. Long hairs, almost an inch long. I know what they are from—shock treatments. I don’t know how I know this; I just do. I don’t even know how I know she had shock treatments. Perhaps some of my knowledge comes to me through osmosis—invisible pollen floating in the air, landing on my skin, seeping into my pores, absorbed by the cells in my blood that carry it directly to my heart.
