The garbage can is full again. I drag it inside and empty it over the floor, adding to the foot of water already standing in the house. The bathtub and the sinks have been running nonstop for several ... [+]
When Wally asks me to punch him in the stomach, I try not to hold back. I let it rip. I set my feet like he taught me to, draw back my fist, and deliver a blow to the spot he's pointing at—right above his belly button. "Harder!" he yells. "You can punch harder than that!" I remember what he taught me about footwork. I do a little hop and replant my feet at a 45 degree angle. I shift my weight as I throw a punch from my cheek to his stomach. "Do it again!" he says. "Harder!" Again I hop up. Again I shift, except this time I think about my fist going through his stomach; traveling beyond his abd