: Quickening: Canada, 1915 :
an excerpt by Kathleen Ford
He didn’t tell her where he was because the censors wouldn’t let him. It was enough for her to know what his letter said - that he was going into the war zone. What difference did it make if it was Mons, Marne, Albert, or Arras? They were words on a map and couldn’t tell her if he was hungry, frightened, or cold. Cecilia tried not to think about the other possibilities but it was hard to keep those thoughts away, especially at night when the clock ticked so loud it blocked out everything but the hammering in her throat. Some nights she made herself creep to the stair landing and touch the tall ticking box that stood like a coffin waiting to be filled.