![]() The television screen flickering in front of her as she tried to cry. Her dad was getting worried, and she circumvented his questions by mentioning “lady problems.” It was now late in the evening, and she sat in her living room. She’d called in sick that morning, third time that week. Right now, the secrets lurked in her heart, squeezing it, until it felt like it would shatter, or simply stop. The next morning they’d crawl into her gut, and she’d constantly bend over with cramps, running to the bathroom every hour. They’d settle around her neck one day, dragging her down, making her neck stoop. Instead, her secrets chose where they lay. She’d put all of her secrets there and adjust the hip belt, spreading the weight uniformly. She imagined a sturdy backpack, like her uncle used to have, with buckles and padded shoulder straps. If she could carry the weight on her back, perhaps she could go on as usual. But the soul also contained a person’s secrets. It was a thing made of thoughts, and feelings, and beliefs-all bodiless, as light as sunshine. To my parents, who helped every step of the wayĬatherine always believed that her soul was weightless. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Īmazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of, Inc., or its affiliates. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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