… of lipstick around the rim. An estranged cousin spoke next. “That last story isn’t true,” he said. I felt the congregation turn towards me, but in a very Baptist fashion, meaning that they looked at the space next to my head rather than my eyes.
…is scant little orienting, very little outside the words of your elders when you are little, and so I took the word hypochondriac inside me like an heirloom. I placed it in a safe with the word sensitive, next to the word orphan.