Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

X Files


An imaginary raccoon. A slow dive. Cameras and flapjacks. Lumberjacks and Cracker Jacks. She enters my bedroom dressed as Miss Piggy. She rambles. Blabbers on about the night before last. “Can you believe he touched me there,” she says. “Lend me your dreams.” I believe everything. I believe in X-files and the Fringe, in everything that starts with the letter F or Y. She reaches for my forehead as if she reaches for herself in a mirror. Pushes away my bangs as if she were pushing away forever. She does not address her costume or the leotard in her hand. Halloween is still four weeks away. He must have been good looking. They always look good when she’s drunk. They always morph into something sinister in the morning, like bacon drippings after the bacon is done. “It’s time for school, my lioness” she says, leaning in. “Breakfast is ready.”

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I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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