marguerite
I collected bunnies when I was younger. I had lots of them - porcelain bunnies, stuffed bunnies, paper bunnies.
What I remember most about them isn't their coloring or where I bought them or who gave them to me. TI remember that they always lost their left ear.
I kissed his lips, sweet and slightly salty. I tasted the summer sun and the winter chill and the springtime breeze and the autumn colors.
In the few moments that I felt his drunken affection, I felt alive, like I knew that I would never feel alive again. At least, not while he was sober.
I felt great affection for him. You know, that love that you just can't imagine ever being without, that affection that you don't ever want to let him go.
I felt great affection for her. You know, that kind of affection that one feels for a teddy bear. You love it for a while, then you give it away.
What's a snowflake? My daughter asked me this question one morning over a bowl of oatmeal. I wondered how to explain the wonder of snowfall to a child who lived in Nevada, but I could not grasp the words. So we colored instead.
I guess I always knew deep inside that he was a flake. I remember the morning so clearly - sitting at the kitchen table, pouring my cheerios into my glass bowl. But he scoffed at my cereal choice, and pulled out a box of cornflakes. Then he kissed me an promised he'd never leave.
The next morning, he was gone. The cornflakes were still there, though.