“keep your unpeopled gardens careful, like with words.”

This is what the bear said to her while she crossed the river into the forest of weathered, two-tone doors, fragments of azaleas close cropped like haircuts in the chain link.

Then they were a pair and between two things: the smiling void. Everything in pairs inside of the hopeless field.

Fishing line suspended the old model airplanes from the ceiling, welded holes with cheap lighters in their doomed wings in their doomed wings in their doomed wings.