I found out this morning that I am one Kevin Bacon away, in two directions, from a marvelous writer named Tessa Gratton. She’s a friend of Gareth Skarka (another excellent writer), who mentioned her to me, and she’s got the same agent as me.

So I went and looked her up. I’m in the midst of her amazing blog at the moment but wanted to share with you a (very) short story she posted that just blew me away. It’s called “The Cold That Flays The Skin,” and it started my reading day off on just the right note.

Here’s how it begins (and you should click the link above and read the whole thing):

I see the Christmas lights go up, and I know my time is running short.

***

When I was a child, it was easier. I’d be found, and coddled by kind folk or child services for a few days, then sent to a foster family. Sometimes they were awful, and I knew I only needed to bear it until Christmas. Sometimes they were wonderful, and I cried when the first plastic reindeer appeared in a neighbor’s yard.

I’ve never met anyone like me, but I often wonder how many of the missing children whose faces line the exit at Walmart have a similar affliction.

The year I was six (I think – I don’t have my original birth certificate, only the paperwork Mr. Fax gave me), I saw my own face on the TV and begged my new mom to take me to the mall parking lot to help with the search. I watched my old mom drink hot cocoa, her eyes red-rimmed, and try to speak coherently with reporters. My old dad huddled with the preacher, and they waited. And waited. I was right there, but they couldn’t see.

I had a different face.

EDIT: And she has a dog named Grendel. How cool is that?