And when they sat down in the morning to bowls of cold cereal, each in turn would notice the blades of a ceiling fan spinning at the bottom of their spoons, small enough to swallow, yet no one ever mentioned it, neither looking up nor into each other's eyes for fear of feeding the hunger that held them there. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |