Fire surges through me and I want to her to know my disgust. I am ashamed of her and I want her to feel it. But I say nothing because she’s too far gone and my vocabulary isn’t enough. I let this old woman, who has never supported me anyway, go on her way and I hope she feels dirty. She’s the one who, I think, is beyond hope. So why does that hopelessness stay with me instead of following her?

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