I was never a child, ' asserts K.D. Miller, author of two collections of short fiction from The Porcupine's Quill. Or at least, the child in me was killed'' sometime before my conscious memory kicks in.' No particular traumatic event or series of events brought this about, Miller says. In fact, her childhood sounds boringly routine. Miller grew up in Hamilton, Ontario in the 1950's world of housewives and breadwinners, of pink plastic radios...