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A Woman Could Show You How
Meredith Thompson
My sister takes the string from our tin can phone and uses it to make a tightrope. The stampede of technology, which tells us we should use walkie-talkies instead, is pushing everything thinner and thinner. Her cord thins out too, and snaps.
When I let her try on my high heels, she walks all the way out to the edge of her flat world and tumbles from the edge in pieces like our alphabet block towers, A apple and O owl thumping out across the carpet.
Our father made girls without knowing what to make of them. His attempt to nurture us is like the makeup he can’t tell we are applying all wrong: too thick, and so atonal, any woman would know it’s fake.