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Hannah took her life when she was sixteen, swallowed pills like snakes swallow mice. At twenty-seven she killed herself again, three times: hanging, shooting, jumping in front of the 14:28, 97 bus to Notre Dame. Hannah was still alive at 65, when she sent in her obituary to the local newspaper and slashed her own throat to the morning newscast, and when her kids visited two days after that they had not read the obits too carefully and they greeted her with love. Hannah has a cannonball and a length of chain and is sick of it. She walks away.