We've just got to be careful—not rough or anything like that. But otherwise you don't have to worry."
Her voice ran down when she saw my anger. "That's filthy!" I shouted. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
She drew away, wrapping her coat quickly around her to protect what lay within.
As she made that protective gesture, I saw the second double image: my mother, heavy with my sister,
in the days when she was holding me less, warming me less with her voice and touch,
protecting me less against anyone who dared to say I was subnormal.
I think I grabbed her shoulder—I'm not sure, but then she was screaming,
and I was sharply back to reality with the sense of danger.
I wanted to tell her I had meant no harm—I would never hurt her or anyone. "Please, don't scream!"
But she was screaming, and I heard the running footsteps on the darkened path.
This was something no one would understand. I ran into the darkness, to find an exit from the park, zig-zagging across one path and down another.
I didn't know the park, and suddenly I crashed into something that threw me backwards. A wire-mesh fence—a dead end.
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