When Hazeline opens the door she flicks on the light to see Rhea crumpled in the corner, clutching in her hands a well-worn gray cap, shattered tiara bits by her knees on a splash of red.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plastic diamonds litter the floor.

 

At first tripping on her words while Hazeline yells into the hall, eventually Rhea summons speech.                    Leonard: the name crackles up through her throat.

 

Hazeline is quick to report his name through a phone she has yanked from a nearby wall.                     —helped me. He saved me, Rhea finally finishes her sentence, folding her knees up now and tucking the faded cap under her chin.

 

Fake diamonds flash like the real thing under cheap florescence.