“Rebekah takes my hand and I wish we could stay here until the sun shines its last rays. I feel no
“My world has changed, but I cannot recall how. The celling above my nose looks the same; the hard bed beneath
“I will admit that I’ve had thoughts of what life would be like without Mother. Without her rules and routine,
“A history written in ashes, in bones. Before the blast, they say there’d been sermons about fire, about the end
“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life.