“Her entire being forever blazes through my mind. She smells like Tide, and the last swipe of creme in the travel size Nivea tin jar found only when you desperately need it. Like the bottom of her overcrowded purse that holds Wrigley’s gum, bills, and glasses on a hot day in a parking lot while my aunt runs into the bank. Her smile has one stained tooth that sits and fits in with the other porcelain ones as a confirmation of her earthly existence. Until she bites fearlessly into ice without a shiver or a shake, and you’re left questioning how angels hide in plain sight.”