In the deep grotto behind the house, S was blowing on my wrists and scalp and in between my toes where it tickled. S that tickles, I whispered. When the words came out of my mouth, they were eaten by the bat that swooped down and then settled under S’s armpit. Shh, S said. Shhhhhhhhh, S said. Her shh went rushing through my ears and down into the catacombs where the people lay, and it moved their chests up and down like bellows blowing on a flame.
