That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.
'Is Tyson okay?' I asked. The question seemed to take my dad by surprise. 'He's fine. Doing much better than I expected. Though 'peanut butter' is a strange battle cry.'
Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.
Ever come home and found your room messed up? Like some helpful person (hi, Mom) has tried to "clean" it, and suddenly you can't find anything? And even if nothing is missing, you get that creepy feeling like somebody's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish?