She was going to implode. The words on the screen of her phone, bearer of this terrible news, were sizzling; red hot like the rod farmers use to tattoo cattle. She stood motionless in the aisle of the supermarket until her gaze diverted slowly from the device. A patron who was after the box of whole wheat pasta just behind gave her a look that she was too absorbed to notice. A single tear rolled from her cheek. A voice echoed in her head. “I want to die.”