from erasure by percival everett (152)
"i imagined that my mother discovered the letters just after father's death, when he'd asked her to burn and not read them. but he of course knew that she would read them. i found myself angry with him, a stupid enough feeling with a live person. then i wondered which was more confidence-killing: believing that you should not have felt inadequate when in fact you were, or discovering that, all along, you were actually smart enough to see things clearly, that you were correct in your fears."
