I have a new mantra, which I chant softly to myself: "Oh My God Oh My God.

Bushwhacked, I examine my hands. Same hands. Rings still there but no longer valid.

I know one thing about men," Bunny says with finality, leaving the room to check on A. "They never die when you want them to.

He left a bit too easily and with obvious relief. His feet were swift and sure on the muddy path.

I was steeped in denial, but my body knew.

Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.