She's afraid of the night.

Twenty minutes.

No birthday in sight.

We laugh nervously.

The same shape as an egg.

Below deck.

More than she count on one hand.

The tip of their red wing.

The squeak.

As if he's omnipotent.

Looking back.

It's a triangle.

She becomes anxious.

Keeping the door open.

Ice cream parlor chairs.

Regrets.

She wondered.

The weeks fly by.

In the quiet.

A petticoat.

Watching sailboats.

Not eating.

Finger prints.

So soft it wasn't even soft.

Innumerable labors.

So few answers.

Vanilla.

Arms stuck in the aisle.

It needs to be walked off.

Ceramic bowls, chopsticks; breakfast with eggs.