cillahughes1

when you spend a summer somewhere where people squirrel away their ugly children, it's hard not to notice the subtle strain of the truth on certain smarter faces, or the absolute oblivion in certain spinning eyes and stumbling legs. -- i met a girl named K, just K, with ankles like a deer and a voice loud like noise and swampy like a swamp. she liked orange foods and big words and her hands shook like the girls in jazz class. K clicked her tongue between words sometimes but nobody ever mentioned it. her socks were alphabetized. she carried a comb in her back pocket but only 'cause she needed it, she said. her hair was turning