They didn’t speak again until the sky turned the color of a faded bruise. The cassette deck clicked off. The Fool stood, brushed the dirt from her slip, and kissed June on the forehead—cold lips, warm breath.
The first time June saw the Fool, she was washing her mother’s car in the dark. Warpaint - The Fool -Deluxe Edition- -2011-
It was a stupid chore to assign at 10 p.m., but her mother had been crying again—the soft, gulping kind that didn’t ask for help—and June needed to disappear. So she took the sponge and the hose into the damp California night, and she scrubbed the ghost of her father out of the paintwork. They didn’t speak again until the sky turned
“The warpaint.” The Fool tapped her temple. “In your head. The sound you make when you’re trying to be brave but you’re really just a fool.” The first time June saw the Fool, she