Catherine watched the girl from afar. She gazed at her, confused as to why someone so fancy, so wealthy would come to their small town. Her breath fogged up the cold window and she peered through the smudged window at the young woman. She wore an extravagant purple dress, she was possibly 15 or 16 based on the looks of her. Her raven hair was piled up in an elaborate hairstyle, twisted and curled. She had neatly-trimmed bangs. She had such pale skin that she looked to be a sculpture-she held herself like one too. Pink lips, and rosy cheeks, blue piercing eyes that would melt when she smiled. Catherine was so enthralled that if she got any closer to the window she would burst right through the pane. The woman with her had hair, blonde and looked so different from the young woman, that Catherine doubted she could be her mother. A man grabbed some bags and another trunk. No. It couldn't be, Catherine thought. Was the girl moving in next door?
The Girl Next Door
More by crisscross
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belly buttons and beating hearts
I clung to my baby blanket that wrapped around my limbs. my limbs, small and swollen, cushioned by my mother's organs. I was warm, I clung to the insulation of two beating hearts.
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grapefruit sacrifice
cut in half in a ceramic bowl, the edge of the spoon carves out the meat from the middle, sawing at the membrane that encases the pulp.
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Confession
the contents of the atlantic
are tucked behind my ear.
the other isles have oozed into my hair
parasitcally working their way down my throat
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