Old Journal Entries

It hurts her that the boys she spent summers with are now men. Although it makes them stronger, it doesn't make her feel any more protected. In her youth, when she threw glass bottles or hexes, they would close around her, shielding the world until her wind died down.

Then they'd cocoon her in grass clippings and cotton and keep her dress from blowing up past her knees as they carried her home to the house she shared with frogs and fireflies. They let her walk on bare feet over the cold stones to her door.

Sometimes she was radiant and they couldn't help but relax. Other times, she was dull and not really there, like the discarded skin of a lizard. But they'd feed her salt and gin that reminds her of wearing silk on dates in pool halls. But the best thing to do, which none of them knew, was to submerge her in cold vinegar water.

She pushed her tongue against the back of her teeth until they jutted out at grotesque angles. She cannot kiss anymore.