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I don't want to go.
 I could just fold you up and put you in my pocket and keep you with me, I say.
I do just that, in half, then half again. I remember only two facts from growing up: nothing can be folded in half more than 11 times, and swallowed gum stays in your body for 7 years. I fold her up and put her in my pocket. I pat my pocket. There, there.
I fold the drawing as many times as I can, counting. Six. I put her, drawn, folded, in my mouth and swallow, pushing it down my throat with my index finger, inviting her to stay inside me forever.
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