Rebekah’s feet ache. It’s been a shitty week… The police insist her missing son’s been radicalized by ISL. He’s wild, but… surely… not evil? Music wafts soothingly from Alexa. Breaking news on the muted TV flashes a van, plowing down holidaymakers. She looks away. Never Let a Client See You Cry, she scolds herself, coloring … More Friday Afternoon at the Hair Salon

There was love. A small bed—warm, if threadbare—which they shared. But Carrie wheedled for satin princess sheets. There were quiet evenings. Precious time together, reading, without the need of radio propaganda. But Carrie whined for a porcelain dollie, like Sophie Stangl’s. There was chicken soup and knish. Carrie demanded bratwurst. There wasn’t much, in truth—but … More Carrie Contrary