022604 #eel Knowing she'd sensed it, dreamed it, knew it. Telling myself she could be wrong, but knowing she's usually right about these things. Thinking, cancer, yes, that's why her stomach's been hurting her in so many places. The dead weight of the unavoidable truth. Numbness. Walking by myself, riding a bike maybe, by our old neighborhood, only in this world the street is made of dirt and is only as wide as an alley, and the houses are low and dumpy and small, and the lots are separated by cheap chain link fence, and each one only has about 500 square feet or so at the most. I am aware of how different things are here. How did it get this way?