There was no night to fade into. It almost seemed like nighttime all the time in the cube. Serafina could not remember falling asleep, but she was suddenly thrown into the past.
It was a memory, but vivid and ever-present.
Her father had just died, and a wake was not what they needed, not when wine was served, and secretly, some hard liquor. The guests had gone home, and her mother continued drinking bottles of wine – and something else. Bottles. Rafina worried about her mother’s liver giving out. Or, by the looks of it, her sanity.
“Mom, I think you should go to your room now,” she had advised, but her mother was already asleep on the couch, one leg still down on the floor, and she barely stirred. She was still wearing her heels.
Soon, Rafina could only hear the sound of gentle
