Kak touched the patch over her injured eye. Nono had tended to her the best an Ifa priest could be expected to. He’d cleaned out her eye and placed the patch over it. They’d met at Lili’s and gotten her into as comfortable a position as possible after the abortion.
She popped open her doxepin stash and counted. Twenty-eight. The same number she’d had when she got back to the hotel from the cemetery. Over forty hours without a dose. Yet she was clear-minded and free of anxiety. Even with the trauma of being a lightning rod for the gods. Why? What came next?
Her fingers located the carry-on Rudy left and unzipped it. The mink spilled out in a luxurious roll. She watched it glow in the soft light before pushing it back inside and re-zipping the bag.
Ann Sexton. Smokey the Bear. Kastle Keen.
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