Dust moved when Victoria breathed. It went up in spirals through the single bar of light that cut across the room from a window someone had not cleaned in a long time. For a moment Victoria and Peter did not say anything. The only sound was the creak of the crib rocking on its own. It was as if the air had shifted when the door opened and disturbed something that had been undisturbed for years.
Victoria walked further into the room past the crib, toward the wall. She did not want to look at the crib. It made her feel something she did not want to feel. She looked at the wallpaper instead. She wished she had not done that.
*Victoria Saint. Victoria Saint. Victoria Saint.*
The name was written in loops across the wallpaper. The crayon strokes were wobbly at the top. Got steadier as they w
