recognized from childhood, the one she always took before saying something she had been holding behind her teeth.
I gripped the railing and waited.
I told myself, “Whatever it is, you can take it. You have always been able to take it. I was wrong about that, too.”
Then she said it.
“You chose this life. Don’t make it ours.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer because the sentence kept unfolding in my head.
You chose this life.
As if Kora’s bone marrow had taken a vote.
As if my
