I stood staring out the window an hour later. William sat waiting as I took in a deep breath. The sun still bathed the green land in gold, but black clouds had rolled in from the Irish sea.
“How often do you have breakdowns like that?” he asked.
I watched the wind rustle the trees, paying no mind to his question before answering.
“Not often,” I said. “I can feel the anxiety long before I get to that point and know how to end the conversation or steer it off topic without others knowing. Most of the time, I don"t talk about myself. And people don"t ask. I never talk about myself. So long as the topic stays off my past, I"m good.”
With a sigh, I left the window and returned to the table. There, I settled myself back down in my chair.
“When I talk about this,” I said. “When I exhume thes
