1 part Ongoing In the early morning, sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting diamond-shaped patches of light onto the kitchen counter. Aitlin was making star-shaped pancakes for her daughter, Jessica. She hummed a nursery rhyme, tapping a cheerful rhythm on the spatula with her fingers. Suddenly...
"Mom," Jessica said, biting the edge of her toast, her eyes fixed on Aitlin's right wrist. "You're bleeding there."
Aitlin's hand trembled. She looked down and saw the fresh wound-like a tiny centipede curled above her vein. The memories from last night were swollen and blurred, like old photographs soaked in rain, reduced to smudges of color.