Kamisha Hendrix’s heart lay on the table between us. Seventy days ago, this heart had been beating inside of her, back behind the dark scar that plunged into the neckline of her blouse.
“No—my heart didn’t beat,” Hendrix clarified. “It trembled.”
Kamisha Hendrix’s heart lay on the table between us. Seventy days ago, this heart had been beating inside of her, back behind the dark scar that plunged into the neckline of her blouse.
“No—my heart didn’t beat,” Hendrix clarified. “It trembled.”