When the doorbell rings, Penny doesn’t want to open the door. She doesn’t want anyone to see how they live.

Cloud-soft, our animal floated through the room like slow music.

I shed my skin every seven years. I never realise it till long after the act of shedding has taken place.

Mother says I’m made of mud, eyes, and a little bit of the past. When she says this, she glances away as though she’s ashamed of what she did.

Mind the stones there. A centaur took out part of my stone wall in a hissy fit. Centaurs, what can you do, hmm?