The girl moved in a little closer. She had her hands behind her back.
The girl turned into the mirror—turned to look at someone else.
The girl began to speak, in several voices, asking someone:
Q: WHAT DID THE SON WANT TO DO?
Q: WHAT DID THE SON WANT TO WANT TO DO?
Q: WHAT DID THE GIRL WANT FOR THE SON?
Q: WHAT COULD THE GIRL HAVE DONE TO MAKE THE SON WANT SOMETHING ELSE?
Q: HOW MUCH HAD THE SON EATEN? HOW MUCH HAIR COULD FIT INSIDE HIS CHEST?
Q: HOW MUCH COULD FIT INSIDE THE GIRL’S HOUSE? THE SON’S HOUSE? THE COPY VERSION(S)? WHY?
Q: WHAT WAS THE GIRL’S HOME MADE OF? AND THE SON’S SKIN? AND THE GIRL?
Q: WHAT FIT IN THE SPACE BETWEEN THE HOUSES?
Q: WHO ELSE WAS COMING BY?
The girl was turning. The girl glowed. The son glowed.
Q: DO YOU KNOW NOW?
Q: DO YOU?
Do you?