Her Mother Used to Make Her Cry Until She Learned
to speak. While she never raised a hand to the child, her mother would often give her the look. Fueled by anger running hot in her bones, her mother’s eyes would turn to flame.
The baby would cry. The mother would calm her. Flame. Tears. Soothing arms. A dance, repeated over and over again.
(Nominated for 2023 Best Microfiction anthology)
(Nominated for 2023 Best Small Fiction)