Chapter 42 Katerina
- I'm a pile of needles. Each time I move, I feel my thoughts prickling me—not hard enough to draw blood, but still enough to remind me of my discomfort. I can't believe Mom is coming here. Settling on the cushion of my vanity, I run my brush through my hair. There are no tangles; I'm brushing it just to stay busy.
- Will she like it here? What should I say to her?
- What can I even say to her?