They called her Chee-Chee, though she was
more like our queen than a princess. We

named her Nan-Nan. She was the thread
that bound us like the patchwork

of a story quilt, cut too soon, creating
chaos in the fallout. Shattered

glass angels, broken bloody noses, a pink
marble coffin, not the one she asked

for, nor the one Pop-Pop wanted for
her. Stolen knick-knacks in the lounge, bitter

coffee, fake sugar.