This is not a story with a beginning or an end. It is the hum of a refrigerator in a quiet kitchen. It is the weight of a paper smile taped to a door. It is the map of a dried bloodstain, the promise of an expired coupon, the sound of a faucet that will not stop dripping. Anchored in the senior year of high school, this is a raw, sensory-heavy excavation of a friendship with Annaa girl who heard gravel in a waitress's walk and drew the shadows instead of the apples. Written in a jagged, in...