Checkmate

“Where does it hurt?” Luz asked. 

“Here,” Chisa reached down and touched the bed next to her.

“And where else?” 

“Over here,” she walked over and stroked the handle on the wooden dresser drawer 

“And…” 

Chisa unclipped the barrette from her cotton brown hair and fingered its bow. 

Luz stood silently bouncing her eyes between the three places Chisa touched-had she asked the question incorrectly or was it Chisa who failed to understand? 

and then she realized suddenly that

trauma 

outsmarts its victim 

lodged everywhere and nowhere at all. 

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