She wore a blouse belonging to her daughter. Soiled the blouse, retained the blouse, and ruined the relationship's viscosity. Easy-to-induce edges revealed their colors (true) and very soon the rift became its own cement block fence. Where a curse liked being what a curse is best: a kind of rainbow skitterish with scars that everybody knows they caused. What kind of insistence works best on a mind that's like a laser beam and hungry. She told her daughter this or told her that and emphasized the ways in which her life was just her own. Apart in other words from hers. In which the daughter could not find her, course correct, purchase on margin new affection more fitting and more easily described.
Familial treason, impartial links, still printing after learning cursive script
Sheila E. Murphy | Corporate Giving
Contents | Mudlark No. 8