51. Birthday
The red stones are delicious even if the world it too bright and the light is like a tangible hurting thing on her not-skin. She's not sure where she's taking them in, not sure that she's a she either, for that matter, but things are making more sense and the stones are delicious and this woman will take her somewhere dark, she's sure. Somewhere where the light doesn't pound against her quite so mercilessly.
"What's this one called?" Something says, and she feels mild impact somewhere, like something has tapped her.
Trisha, she thinks, uncertain. Mother.
"Sloth."
It's good enough.
Not my favorite. Vaguely confusing to read looking back on it, but I think I meant it to be when I first wrote it. A number of sentences can be interpreted a few ways, but I guess that makes it more fun. X3;
