Then she began to write.
Queenie’s hand turned over, palm up, fingers brushing Erica’s. “Then we make sure the truth doesn’t stay buried.” erica cherry and queenie sateen
“You’re profiling me,” Erica said. Not a question. Then she began to write
They let the silence stretch, comfortable now, full of unspoken understanding. Then Queenie squeezed her hand once and let go, moving toward the door. moving toward the door.