There is a child on a bike and a man on a chair. And there is nothing. Children are taken from their rooms in the night. Babies snatched from behind unlocked doors. For a while there is a frenzy of wonder about where they might be and what happened to them. Then quiet. There was a girl who was a lifeguard at a pond. She was seen in the morning and then she was gone. Several years later a hunter found the scrap of her bathing suit in the woods. Their bones fill up the earth. Build up an infrastructure like rebar. I feel I am walking upon them, each one a stab in my hip. I run past a house with a box car in the yard. A man unlocks it and enters. He might store my own body there. It would be both the most and not the most obvious place for my body to be stored. He has a shepherd and hostas. He will not kill us. The dog across the street rolls over and over in the damp grass.

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