Photo Source: PickPik There’s a word for the disorientation that drowns me when the skies darken and throw long shadows and turn the windows reflective. I knew it a few days ago, but the Word Thief must’ve stolen it on her last visit. Funhouse mirror outlines of furniture, trees, and people in mint scrubs waver in the glass. I can’t tell if they’re outside, or inside projected outside. The Word Thief is back today. A girl with berry blond hair scrunchied into a ponytail and...