What went wrong
I remember the feel in play school when every other child got to finish some adventurous art project. My name never got called once. All the other kids with their handiwork and the wait inexhaustible as a child the wait is even harder to bear.
That one time I fell out of an adult folding chair on my cranium.
Or that one time I was intermittently the Wheaton girl too shy and innocent to talk to men and simultaneously “the virgin they threw into the volcano” the one who got hurt so much by them at parties and in her own dormitory —…