
The name I reported at twelve is still here, in this same handwriting. Twelve years now, I carry it to the fire and put it back every time.
I've seen that handwriting twice more, on the back pages of the grain ledger. If you mean to burn it, tonight's not the night.
The achievement of your twelfth year still stands on the court record's first page. I'd thought you had forgotten it.
Sit too long by the dawn coals and your fingertips will crack.




