Her brother who has already been once dead, who carries a slip of paper in his pocket with his name and address since the day when he fell, when the boy next door who should have been watching pushed her against the fake-wood finish of her father's stereo set, pushed her against the cabinet holding the speakers and the pull-out components, pushed her up against the hard fake-wood cabinet door with his cupped palm at the place between her legs and his other hand pushing her shoulder against the fake wood, everything hard, the hand, the cabinet, the place between her legs where he kept his cupped palm, pushing her as though she would sink right into the wood, and they heard the thump outside, a noise she had never heard before, and still he almost didn't let her off but for a moment she was stronger and she ran to find her brother there on the ground in his white-sheet cape with a piece of something coming out of him, the boy next door behind her saying oh my God. And now her brother laughs his low laugh saying Laura! Laura! running with his head down even now at twenty, his hair thinning, his face as fleshy as the baby's face will be months from now with food.But this face in the mirror coming from the triangle now! The wisps of hair over dented skull! The skin red and yellow! This face!
