When Harry walked across my palm and onto my fingertips, perhaps wisely attempting a swift getaway, the scratch of his toenails on my skin was thrilling.
Somehow this had been the first time their house had been tagged with Katherine there. The graffiti had gone quiet every other time she visited, as if the neighborhood understood that an upper-middle-class white lady from a gated community wouldn’t understand tagging even though she sure as shit understood property boundaries.
The spell says she must trek/
for home, moist ground mucking up//
her shoes. The spell says she must/
not speak on the way across the field.