Gloria came. And Gloria went. Every time she brought beans I tried to talk to her, pleaded, but she just kept saying, “Like I said, Telly has to choose. When he wants you out, you’ll be out.” I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I know I ran away, but couldn’t I just apologize?

For hours and hours I tapped the pipe that ran along the corner and disappeared into the ceiling. Willing Maisy to come back. Why wouldn’t she let me out? Was she angry too?

I waited and waited and sang and counted and swore and dozed and dreamt and woke and waited and waited and sang and swore and slept and dreamt and waited and watched, but nothing changed. The room did not dissolve around me. I did not find myself in my bed upstairs. I did not discover Maisy’s face smiling at me, delighted I was home. I did not feel my fingers tangled in Chicken’s warm fur.

The cement stayed cement.

It seemed Gloria hadn’t been there in a while, but I couldn’t be certain. I just knew my stomach had an acidic emptiness. Cramps pierced my intestines. I noticed the smooth edges of my shinbone, my ribs. My muscles quivered when I tried to stand up to get a drink. Though I tried not to stand up very often.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I leaned over and squinted. A tiny blur of color skidded over the linoleum and slowed in the shadow behind the toilet. A centipede. He was still, silent, but as I slid forward I could see his two antennae moving in the air. He was sensing. My invisible antennae were moving, too. Ever so slightly.

Before, if I’d seen this in the shed, I would have stomped. But now I realized how neat this rust-colored creature was. His skinny legs all moved in perfect unison. A flurry of energy. I wondered about his life. Where did he come from? Did he have a family? Was he just trying to get away from them all? Did he sleep during the winter? Did his legs ever get tired, or did he just ignore the hurt and get on with it?

I bet he ignored it. And just kept going forward.

“Hello there, little friend,” I whispered. I stayed very still. I hoped he would move closer. My insides filled up with want. I hoped he would know how badly I needed him to take a single coordinated step in my direction. He was the first living thing I’d seen in forever. Gloria didn’t count.

“What’s it like out?

“Is it still summer?

“I’m happy you’re here.”

The antennae flickered. He was listening. He was listening to me.

“Where did you come from?

“Can you sneak upstairs and see if Maisy is okay?

“Can you tell someone I’m here?”