06. Wet Blanket

“M is for mirrors.” The girl yawns.
“M is for masks!”
“M is for Morrow.” She winks at the doll on the floor.
“And…” Her eyes brighten. “M is for me!”
She throws her hands up in triumph.
“Hmm…is me a name?”
She tilts her head.

Outside, the neighbors are going through their morning greetings.
The girl waits by the door, but the group has no plans to leave. Are they doing their afternoon greetings here too?
“Wish me luck, Mo.” The girl sighs and puts on her mask. The mask’s edges curl up.

“Ah, looks like it’s going to drip.”
“It was so nice yesterday!”
“Last week it dripped too… oh, hello neighbor!”
The group spots her and waves.
The girl wobbles over.

“Ah, looks like it’s going to drip.” They start again.
“It was so nice yesterday!”
“Last week it dripped too.”
The girl jumps in. “It did. When the sky cries, I want to cry too. It feels like a giant wet blanket, so hard to breathe…”
She trails off as everyone stares.

The smiles hang in the air.

The girl holds her breath and tries to smooth the mask flat, but the paper refuses to stay.
Then, she tests the line. “Ah, looks like it’s going to drip.”
Everyone nods. “It was so nice yesterday!”
The group continues their dance.
The girl walks away.

Maybe she will get the answers right eventually. She just needs to memorize them. Drip, yesterday, last week…
Sandwiched between the mushy ground and the pressing sky, she clutches her arms; sugar crystals prickle her skin, buzzing from inside out. Her chest is filled with rocks, yet a hollow spot sits right in the middle.

“Is me a name…?”
With each step, her feet sink deeper into the soggy fluff.