"My memory of her is probably the most clear from that year," she told me. "She had talon fingernails- red; It wasn't pretty." She drew a long breath, eyeing the vase that held my tulips in the centre of the glass table between us, as it contemplating whether to continue. I was about to suggest starting from something she felt more comfortable discussing rather than her memories from 2005, when she continued, "I was just six, but I knew it was slutty, especially her riding miniskirt. No lady should wear that and sit LIKE THAT. She had the hair too. You know, and the lipgloss- that shimmering red one. Her eyelids was painted like those girls they said were bad for marriage- I mean, it was 2005." "She was always sitting in front of my dad's car on those afternoons. We sat behind. Quiet. My mom taught us that; being quiet." She added, smiling. "Dad told us she was his sales assistant's wife. I believed him. I believed everythi...
On other days, the ink reflects my thoughts better than my lips ever would...