I stood and listened as Dianne said clever things that belonged to someone else: my jokes, her boyfriend’s politics, Lily’s favorite “literary fiction”. She didn’t have a single original thought or first-hand knowledge of anything.

She did, however, have yogurt on her chin, and this made it all okay.

Katy lives on a sheep farm in Wilder with too many chickens, not ever enough border collies, and her spleen, full of vent.