The estimate comes down to six hundred missing,/ the estimate comes to a son flying off a bridge.

Say: I am still alive in the birds flown west.

She remembers the rituals she had imbued with her own significance: how her ex used to bring her a single flower after every exam, and how she’d watch it wilt on her desk as she studied for the next.

“What debts—monetary, emotional, filial—did my parents have that I’ve inherited?”

“This book is labeled historical, but it is a reimagining. It is surreal.”