Lucinda Smith

Fuck! What do you want me to say? That I saw it all? That I watched the vultures gather as they brought Murmur’s corpse out of the river? That I noticed how oddly masculine Edith the Sex Change looked as she barreled down the dock? That I smoked five cigarettes as I stood at my French doors and watched Dr. Z preen all official, even though I knew his fucking heart was breaking. Well, no. I won’t talk about it. It’s nobody’s business. My pain is off-limits.