by Michelle Dennis Evans What’s happened? What’s going on? I can’t move. ‘Hello! Is anyone upstairs?’ ‘Hello! Can anyone hear me through this grill?’ Nothing is working but my voice. Oh no I’m going to be sick. She vomited and lay there, pulling her face back from the mess she’d spewed out. Calling out over and over. Hearing silence in return. Removing herself from all feeling, all emotion she wept. And then – she slept.