“No, no, that’s not what I meant. That’s not the point. He’s a school administrator, and some people still aren’t sure how he died. The girl who saw him killed still hasn’t talked,” Anna added nonchalantly, pretending to be engrossed with one of the bright foil-wrapped pieces of candy in the clear bag. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the old lady’s week-old ham-colored tongue circle her liver-colored lips lizard-quick, before disappearing behind her rot-discolored teeth, as Anna’s stomach did a forward roll in free fall, tumbling with no support. Then:
“The radio said that the girl killed him.”
Momentarily taken aback by the mental image of a radio speaking like a human being, the speaker grille moving with a lip-like pucker, Anna finally said, “No, that’s not quite how the news
