zy called it, happen

oss town, a fabricated emergency a

ed, the house

om, pale, a small b

e throat, a minor infectio

dull, her sweet voice

of my hymns, but the

hey had done som

a small piece of tissue, something from near her vocal cords, coul

ted, a tiny sliver of cartilage

ate ambition for Ju

his music, Elias. He needed that puri

quickly, that it was a small sacr

er, Rosie deve

neck looked inf

d antibiotics, assured us

aker. Her breathi

e, her eyes filled with a co

of the morning, as a feveris

ad overwhelmed

equipment, the veterinary-grade sed

g, once so bright and c

zzy threw a lavish p

some minor lo

eamed, telling everyone it was his

ne in her hand, laughing, while our

an' s saxophone sou

hin it, almost imperceptible, that

like a tr

ded lik