Their words were disingenuous. Dripping with desire. Oozing with intention. They made her cringe and retreat in the opposite direction of their manipulations. She felt it in the tension in her back, in the slight urge to vomit, in the urge to hide. She wouldn't smile in return, or feign pleasure. What did they want? What did their slippery smiles try to elicit? She wouldn't give it to them, and so they called her a bitch. -j
Memories spring before me like a surprise visitor in my window - t he bird on my sill, the squirrel up my tree, the butterfly flitting by. Their moments compiled, one on top of the other - unforeseeable, unnoticed, unexpected. Sarah saw, Hagar looked away, Bartimaeus pled. Oh give me sight! Eyes that see your truth without protective fear, Eyes that witness miracles in place of death, Eyes clouded by mercy, for the clearest of vision, making me faithful and true. Someday said the bird on my sill. One day said the squirrel up my tree. Today said the butterfly flitting by. These memories spring before me like the surprise visitors at my window.
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