You text me a bunch of emoticons like a dancing woman, a cactus, a lightning bolt, and a glass a wine, and then you say, “Have a great day!”
I’ll be so far down this deep hole of “Why am I not good enough?” that I’ll say that I’m actually really close by, and then I’ll take a cab worth 18$ to make that lie a truth.
One day, Lisa, her mother and I sat making bracelets on the floor in the den. Lisa sleeps upstairs. A black man singing about his favorite McDonald’s breakfast item came on the television behind Trudy and she turned around. “Obama!” she screamed. With pure delight.