Trying to see which buttons not to press on these feral girls is like learning Chinese algebra in Braille. Wearing gloves.
Sadie tends the wounds she inflicted on me with compassion. There’s no apology for the attack. Why should there be? I’d pressed that button, she’d reacted. The logic was unquestionable. Painful, but unquestionable.
I know nothing of her history save what little she reveals. She’s a wild animal, trying to be tame in a wild society that pretends to be tame.
And I’m too naive to see the buttons she’s shown me. That’ll be my loss. And her burden.