I woke up the first morning back in my mother's house to a cardinal slamming himself into my bedroom window again and again. Every time it seemed like it was hard enough to kill him, but every time he would get up and do it again. Moving back to Utah has been almost entirely horrible, and I would like to say it is because we broke up and things were so bad that I took too many pills or pressed a razor into my soft inner wrist, but really it was that I couldn't afford my student-loan payments anymore and I had a headache nonstop for almost three months. In the dark I would ask him questions. In the dark we would run. In the dark I would say things like, "When I think about it now, I still think the eight sides were for eight daughters even though I know that seems so unlikely." I would confess these endless small embarrassments, these mouse skeletons, until finally, feeling purged and clarified, I would fall gently asleep.