I still loved Granny. It flowed out of my chest. With Granny gone, where would my love go?

Now that her spirit had left, I’d thought she would feel light. Then I realized it was the spirit that carries the weight of the body and not the other way around.

I wish I’d paid better attention. I didn’t yet think of time as finite. I didn’t fully appreciate the stories she told me until I became adult, and by then I had to make do with snippets pasted together, a film projected on the back of my mind.

Granny always said finding justice was as tough as putting socks on a rooster.