“I felt my bones fashioning themselves into something like her: sturdy, sharp, and too exquisite to be human. In a hundred years, archaeologists or curious children would dig me up, brushing earth from my splintered femurs, studying my humerus for a hint at the joke. They would never quite get it because they couldn't see the whole: my fierce weirdness or the restless current that circled my spine. They would wonder what kind of animal I'd been as they photographed my partial skeleton and counted my grinning teeth. They would gild my bones in bronze and hang them on walls behind glass, and men would pay money to see.”