Wooden planked floor, soaked in decades-old urine. Emily new friend soaks in the bath. I hide behind the mirror. Straighten my plaits, appear as she pops soap bubbles and giggles. She gasps. I laugh. Finger to mouth to hush, usher sounds her mother’s steps, closer. Single hair left on the mirror. Back behind the glass, […]

via Imaginary by Marie Lightman — Lonesome October Lit