Thanks again, bye I said as I shut the door to my grandparents van. They had always taken me home from school because I was too old to go to the after school program, and my parents worked. I walked up to the door, fished my key out of my pocket with much effort (try this with a binder and three books in your hands), and unlocked the deadbolt. I dropped all of my things on the floor and relocked the door.
My dog came running up to me with great speed. Hey, Sam! I said as I reached my hand down to rub her head. I walked to the den and let her out through the back door. After six hours, she was bound to have to empty her load. Samantha, or Sam, is a dark shade of brown that looks great on a golden retriever. She is five years old, and has the energy of a puppy.
I went back to re
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
"why not?" i reply.
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someone else for a day.
you make me a nametag with my
real name on it, and i just laugh.
(later i slip it beneath my mattress
and spend the night staring at the ceiling.
see, i've tried myself on one too many
times, and the fit is never right.)
you call me your little compulsive
liar, and i guess that is supposed
to be somewhat affectionate.
i spin before the mir
He'd been content to let her stay there at first but now he was legitimately worried. He knew she was still healing and that she needed to eat and drink to maintain what little strength she had. But she was refusing the water, little wafers and bits of meat he'd left for her. Her trust really must have been shat