she marks her place throughout the house by the ring of her cell phone the one she cradles in hand unaware the chime reveals her spot one floor below where she reads on a gingham-checked window seat knees hugged tight or sits straight-backed at the hallway computer desk or reclines on the kitchen banquette deciphering math puzzles the bright jangle flashes her location like highlighting a passage in a novel as she receives cryptograms from friends “r u home” “w8 brb” while upstairs barricaded behind a wall of books I still shadow her trail and she like any loyal spy communicating with allies is never alone smuggling an unknowable code