"Do you remember the way home?" she always asks, like
a woman in a fairy tale protecting her
daughter from the
dangers of the world.
"Yes," I remind her
dutifully, as
I step into the woods, haunted by
desire for certainty and her dread. I promise to leave a trail of clues
in the dark, for her or me or someone who follows.
The bread crumbs glow. none of us are alone.