did its job.”
I sat with it for a while. I was at Cecille’s house when I read it, at her kitchen table with the teakettle just off the boil. I had replaced the heating element that was beginning to fail, but I had kept the kettle itself, still off-pitch, still sounding like nothing else in the world when it whistled.
I do not know exactly what made Marisol’s continue reading …
