some were spiking wrapped pieces of hard candy off a baby’s bare back.  some were burping dolls and making physical notes.  some were shoving their feet into small shoes right in front of a working conveyor belt.  some had aches in their bodies that sounded like the popping of corn.  some were fathers their fathers would’ve prevented.  some were mothers unwanted by pregnancy.  none were disabled.  none were coordinates.  a hash mark, an eyelash, she stood for the death of one man and finished the word she’d been pausing between.