While I waited, I threw myself into books, sometimes reading most of my waking hours. All I had to do was scan my eyes over the words and let them fill my mind. I would be transported somewhere else. In every other aspect of life, though, I felt like I was just going through the motions. I was a secret agent and infiltrator, but no one else knew. A few years later, I started writing stories. Each one felt like a small piece of the world I was building that I was eventually going to move into, one where babies didn’t get taken away, and Sasquatches didn’t exist.
— "Sasquatch in My Shower" in First Spring Grass Fire by Rae Spoon.