Ye Olde Dry Witch of Long Ago

He could tell he shouldn't have brought it up. She stopped chasing the baby and put her hands on her hips, mouth open like a caught fish. She used to seem so ... more than flesh and bone, less hollow. Now her lips traced a dry hole, as though when Bonnie was born, all the hope was gone and the moisture with it, until she creaked around the house like she was held together by rotten kindling. There wasn't enough water or skin cream to make it all go away -- those veins had sawdust in 'em. He knew he shouldn't have brought it up, see, because she was about to talk... and the bed and its cotton derby sheets where he could pretend to sleep were all the way on the other side of fuckin' house, and there was simply no way of getting there without feeling sheepish or stupid... anyway, YOU try it.