Gyroscope Review 16-1 - Page 34

Never Forget Why Your Wrist Throbs by Alexis Rhone Fancher Look, when the insurance runs out, the ulna sets itself that clutch-at-the-railing/tumble down two flights of Victorian stairs, babe in arms, your wrist eagerly sacrificed to save him. Twenty-some years later, after the boy gets cancer and dies, your body remembers, hoards its wounds like a black hole, your right wrist, thicker than your left, that knobby protrusion a talisman you rub, while the blame feeds on itself. Even now you know his death was your fault. Even now your body yearns for him, the arthritic ache that pulses an image of his face, a supernova, each time it rains. Gyroscope Review !26