It was starting to make sense now: those holes were moth holes. Mr. Davies’s sweater was being eaten alive by moths!
The moths shrouded Olivia in their creamy beigeness. Were they landing in her hair? What was happening? Shouldn’t they be like bears, more afraid of you than you are of them? But these moths, they seemed to want to settle on her head. She could see them descending upon her. She could feel their dusty wings kissing her cheeks as they rushed around her face.
This was too much. Too much to handle. She shook her head side to side, and then raced from her bedroom, ran for the shower. She closed the bathroom door behind her and turned on the water, hot as she could handle. Once she’d stripped off her clothes, she jumped under the needling assault. The only thing she
