minus time

…I kicked the wall outside my mother’s door, shouting for her, while Paul shouted, too, trying to drown me out, and I pushed him aside, kicking and kicking the wooden frame of the door, but I did not touch the door. She had to open the door. We had to make her open the door. Dusk was falling, but there were no lights on except the thin yellow line that shone through the space between her door and the door frame. We sat side by side on the wooden floor until the bottoms of my hands were aching, until our shouting became a chant. Come out. Come out. Come out. A chair lurched. She pulled open the door. “Will you stop it?” she yelled. “I can’t stand it. I had two of you so you would keep each other...

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