“He doesn’t want anyone to be able to hear us,” LaBarge realizes, “when we XXX or XXXX or XXXXX or X.” These gaps are a refusal to perform what Plath called “the big strip tease” for the detail-hungry gawker, but they are also the gaps in a glitching memory. “I did not hear them coming,” LaBarge writes of the men as they broke in. The gaps in the story are a refusal to perform what Sylvia Plath called “the big strip tease” for the detail-hungry gawker, but they are also the gaps in a glitching memory. As Fauré’s Requiem plays, while she lies on the floor with her family, it begins to sound, to LaBarge, like “a family death mass.