I tore a corner off the page I was reading.
Just the tip of the page crumpled. I placed it in my mouth absent mindedly while I read. I have read like this my entire life and the pages show it. I don’t have dog eared books. There are not many ears left to bend in the books I have reread, which are many.
“Don’t Keerty!” Mama said, “it’s so dirty – and the books – that paper is full of chemicals.”
She always said that to me. Before my children. Before I lost Kirk. Long before I even smelled the sweet peaches of my darling grandchildren. Now my daughter looks at me with the same expression.
“Don’t Mama!” she says, “it’s so dirty – and the books – that paper is full of chemicals.”
Her different eyes, the color of her skin. But she looks just like Mama in that moment from behind these eyes.