Nothing could hide it. Not her perfect page-boy or her expensive dresses. My friend said the roof of her mouth was missing. That’s why she drooled all over herself. That’s why we couldn’t understand anything she said.
Not that she talked to us.
But we didn’t talk to her either.
Writing My Life 
August 5, 2011 at 8:50 PM
Wow. Love this. Reminds me of John Updike’s story with the three girls in swimming suits…but tighter. Yay for you.
August 5, 2011 at 9:03 PM
Thanks, Tiff. Sad to say this is based on a true story, and I learned that because I wasn’t outwardly mean didn’t mean I was nice either. Sigh.
August 5, 2011 at 10:43 PM
Wow, this one really packed a punch for me.
That final line was incredibly powerful, it pulls the rest together and really tilts the perspective. How cruel children can be without even knowing or understanding. Nice work!
In regard to your comment, I don’t know how I’m posting at the end of the day. It just seems like the only available opportunity is once the kids are in bed, but so far it’s made for some tight and frustrated entries. If I can make it to the end of August, I swear I will kiss September 1st full on the lips!
August 6, 2011 at 10:45 AM
Ditto about metaphorically kissing September 1’s lips. The little ditties take time and I fear I’ll run out of ideas!
I have, however, toyed with the idea of “50-Word Fiction for 50 Days.” Insane, huh? I’m just having such fun with them. I think!