Precious and Fragile Things by Megan Hart Page A

I looked out across the water and saw the smoke.”
    Gilly closed her eyes, her memories clutched in bruised and aching hands.
    â€œThere were posters everywhere. Pictures of people who were still missing, with numbers to call. When we got to the other side, there were parking lots blocked off by wire fencing, filled with pallets of water. I saw a bundle of axes, maybe twenty of them, leaning against the fence.”
    â€œThe fuck are you talking about?” Todd asked, but softly.Gentle. It was the way someone might speak to someone standing on a ledge or a bridge.
    Gilly opened her eyes. She gathered up what he’d brought to her, careful not to lose anything. “It was the worst thing I’d ever seen.”
    â€œYou messing with me again?”
    She stood and looked at him. “No. I’m not. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve seen bad things.”
    â€œYeah?” Todd frowned. “Well, so have I.”
    â€œI thought at the time that was the worst experience I’d ever have. Seeing what had been left behind. The grief of people who’d lost someone they loved. The bravery of the ones who’d traveled from all over to help dig out the dead. I thought it was the very worst thing, and it was bad…” She looked up at him. “But I think this is worse.”
    Todd took a step back, mouth thinning. “Why don’t you shut up now, Gilly.”
    â€œYes,” she said faintly and held her things close to her. “Yes. I think I will.”
    Todd scuffed a boot on the floor. It left a black mark on the boards she’d so painstakingly swept earlier. “I’m making dinner. Come have some.”
    Gilly shook her head. “No.”
    â€œYou should eat something.”
    Her stomach, empty, was nonetheless too shriveled for hunger. The thought of food made her feel sick. “Why?”
    Todd’s mouth opened and closed. He scowled, then tossed up his hands and turned on his heel to stalk to the kitchen. Gilly watched him go, then stood, juggling her belongings, and went upstairs.
    She put everything he’d salvaged in the top drawer of the dresser she was nauseated to realize she thought of as “hers.”Then she climbed into bed and burrowed under the blankets with the iPod.
    Though it didn’t look broken, the iPod wouldn’t turn on. It gave a low, chugging whir when Gilly pressed the button. She slapped it into her palm as if she was tamping a pack of cigarettes, once, then harder. The screen lit, then shut off. She tamped it again. This time, the Apple logo showed up as the unit rebooted or did whatever it was doing.
    She slipped the earbuds in and thumbed the controls. It was an old model, inherited from Seth after he’d upgraded, but that had never mattered. It had enough space on it to store some music and photos. She scrolled to the picture slideshow she’d loaded to show Seth’s parents the last time they’d visited. In moments the bright and bouncy music, some instrumental piece that came with the photo software, came on. So did the photos.
    Arwen in pink tights and a ballerina sweatshirt, curly dark hair pulled into pigtails, showing off a hole where her front tooth had been. Gandy dressed like Scooby Doo, holding an empty pumpkin pail, chocolate smeared on his face. Photo after photo of her children, each one precious and remote, unforgettable and unreachable.
    And finally, Gilly wept.

9
    G illy woke again to the morning sun and frozen cheeks. She hunched the covers up around her face to warm it. From the other side of the barrier she heard the low, familiar rumble of male snoring.
    It was early, judging by the slant of sunlight made brighter by its reflection off the snow. Her entire body still hurt, possibly worse than it had the day before. Her bruises had bruises. Joints popped and crackled as she stretched. Her stomach wasn’t too happy, either. She hadn’t eaten much of anything, but the