The Quick.

i keep putting my cat in my suitcase and all over my clean clothes so i can wear him when i am away, and complain about the hair to people that won’t really care. i am the type of person to bring her cat up.

i like the fat between my breast and my armpit, where it is solely depending on the kind of shirt one is wearing to determine where each begins and ends. i hold it hard and twist it around, remembering when it wasn’t there and am glad that now it is.

the carpet is so flat in this room where we sleep, it’s depressing. it is utterly defeated. when i vacuum, and i rarely do, i push it hard in the other direction to make it stand up straight again, like a soldier.

this is what is important to me now. my carpet being vertical. i hope you like the new me. look how laid back i am.

"what would you say if i told you i was gay?"
"i would say. . . ‘whatever floats your boat!’"
i paused. "what if i had a girlfriend?"
"good for you."
i gave her a long, hard look. "do you know?"
"about keri? yeah. kim told me months ago." and she grinned wildly.

it sometimes frightens me how well-adjusted my thirteen year old sister is to what goes on around her. to be a kid these days means something different than just ten years ago. something thicker, hairier.

when i was her age, i demanded therapy, unable to cope with the social pressures of middle school. i did something similar to that earlier this summer, but didn’t actually follow through.

i love her.
the only time i am actually aware of my heart physically beating in my chest is when i think of her.