What an odd thing, strength is. Many times over, I had to reacquaint myself with it. To how it looked on me. To how it felt. And nearly each time I did so, it was here. Here, at the end of a parking lot's cul-de-sac, where a set of concrete stairs lead down to a park overlooking the river; here, where the stairway...

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My sister held up my shoes and looked at the pair of them curiously; head tilted, an eyebrow raised. "They're really light," she said, tossing them so that they landed on the tiled floor by my feet.  "Of course they are," I said, smiling as I put them on: black and white checks fitting snugly around the yellow-beaked penguin socks that I wore....

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