When the night hits, she does not go outside. Chores will not be done. Errands will not be made. Her pee has to be non-existent. But there are nights when she has to pee; she runs quickly from her house, the trees more menacing in the night than they are during the day. Spirits of the dead lurk in them. She does not say hello to the neighbors when they call out her name. She swings the door to the outhouse open, and quickly does her duty. When she’s back in the light of her home, her heart pumps. She is alive.