verityk
terrain
tureen
train
brain
turtle soup
artichoke head
desert hold
bone dead
There aren't many cards anymore. Everything comes virtually. Messages on fake walls, a few lines in an email, if that. But I miss at least one. Every year, the one time I could count on my parents to say the words they couldn't say otherwise. Well, at least hide them in a scrawl between two pages. We love you, we are so proud. They say it now, quickly, at the end of skype calls. I duck out of the way, never having learned how to respond.
he smelled of wet wool, droplets from a dog's hair or a sheep. she wanted to ask him where he'd been, who he'd been frolicking with this time. but then she heard the patter of wolfie's toes on the parquet floor. his eyes brown and smiling. the questions would have to wait until later.
chocolate, sweet bribery. but his will is even stronger than his desire. No, don't want chocate. The cheek of him. Yesterday, Daddy came home with a bar of white chocolate with little brown balls and cranberry swirls on it. The monkey claimed it as his own, stuffing pieces in his mouth, refusing to let go.
microphone again? why is it still the same word as yesterday? somebody snoozing over there? never knew 60 seconds could be so long.
the microphones don't make clear the cacophony, or edit out the spells, they just add to them, fizzling too loud words into our ears, seeping into our senseless brains, filtering through to cabbage whiteness, hearing nothing.
the needle passed through his skin like a knife through butter. cliched but she was surprised how little resistance there was, especially from him. even from the blood inside him. never mind that it was mostly velvet and sawdust, it was just as real as any operation. please make him better mummy. all his hopes in my hands.
revolt, revolt! he doesn't even know the word. Instead he uses other tactics. Crying sometimes, but he's really too clever for that. He knows what works best. Pestering. Nagging. Complaining. Or, his best tactic - asking for cuddles. Cuddles always stops us in our tracks and reminds us we are there to love him, most of all. Above all else. Revolt for love.
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