Rachael’s Mum slips down between the cracks of the pavement, melting like paper in the rain. She is a minefield poisoned with nails. The doctor can’t control her with drugs so she uses her wit like a crowbar to open her children. Mums on the school run complain about her bullying and when she blocks the school gates with her car she curses at the people who ask her to move. Sometimes she feels insecure and talks to me. I treat her words like clumps of something scraped from the kitty litter. I sidestep her lies as they burst out on autopilot and lodge in the cracks of the wall.
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