zina
It was cold out. The sun nowhere to be found, the sky draped in gray curtains. There would be no nourishment coming, not from the sun, not from her family.
I was five years old when I bit her. I can't even remember why but the end result had meant the end of a dog chain in the front yard, for all my friends to see. I was humiliated, of course.
She wore rubies around her neck. It was the only jewlery she would ever wear. Well, they weren't for real. After all, she was homelesss. It was all to keep up appearances.
"It is the willful disregard that I am talking about," Lisa.
"I suppose that is who is saying what is disregard means," she spat.
She was going to completely flip out. When her mother saw what she had done it was a done deal. Over. Point of no return. The thing is, what to do now? Clean it up? Pretend like it never happened? No. She was going to have to fess up to it all and her mother was going to flip. She reached for her cell phone and called her father.
"Dad," she managed when he picked up the phone.
She could hear the drone of the mechanic's tools in his shop. He was busy but he would put down everything for her. They both knew that.
"What is it my angel?" he said, crooning as he did when he heard her voice.
"Dad, I fucked up. "
"Do you use that language just to irritate me? Oh, never mind, what happened?"
writing since 2012 · 6 entries · 6 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Zina showed up.
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6days written
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the words Zina reaches for
papersorderguiltyflipmotherdonehappenedphonedaddisregardsunattendantwalkedtowardsnervouspossibly