“When ladies used to come to me in dreams, I said, 'Pretty mother, pretty mother.' But when at last she really came, I shot her.”

“That's when I started thinking about my sister.I thought about the time when she and her friends painted my fingernails, and how that was okay because my brother wasn't there. And the time she let me use her dolls to make up plays or let me watch whatever I wanted to watch on TV. And when she started becoming a "young lady," and no one was allowed to look at her because she thought she was fat. And how she really wasn't fat. And how she was actually very pretty. And how different her face looked when she realized boys thought she was pretty. And how different her face looked the first time she really like a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy. And then I wondered how her face would look when she came out from behind those doors.”

“And when she started becoming a “young lady,” and no one was allowed to look at her because she thought she was fat. And how she really wasn’t fat. And how she was actually very pretty. And how different her face looked when she realized boys thought she was pretty. And how different her face looked the first time she really liked a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy. I wondered how her face would look when she came out from behind those doors.”

“Who ran to help me when I fell, and would some pretty story tell, or kiss the place to make it well, My mother.”

“Good,' she said. Then she exhaled a long breath and leaned back in her seat. 'I can't believe I just talked to you like that. Ugh. I sounded like someone's mother.' She said "mother" like she was talking about cockroaches or snakes.'It was pretty impressive,' I said. 'I never would have guessed you were an amateur.”

“she’s not as pretty as you,” I said“But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered.”