“Isn’t it just so awesome, Chandler? Topanga said hi to me!” We’re both named after streets? “Why do I talk to you anyway? Whitsett will love this story!”
The phone stays belligerently still as I remember saying nothing.
The well she stands behind is called Love. Her job is to scream each time a fool gets close, a brutal, wicked scream that scatters birds. The wise, she makes no noise. They pass on their way, carrying water.