Never
I am five years old. Me and Shilah are rolling in the grass. Laughing. Do you know how I know he's happy? His little tail wags; and when he's nervous his tufty ears twitch. We are oblivious in the way children tend to be and then I hear the sharp hiss of, You Disgust Me.
My mother was always a fighter, she throws her iced tea in the snarling old woman's faces, and lemon clings to the flowery polyester blouse. Mother herds me and Shilah into the trailer. One arched look from mother is never to be ignored.
People are always angry when they see us all together. Shilah thinks it's because me and mother are different from everybody else. I don't know what he means.
Ms S