i drift through rooms full of girls with names like cherry and cotton and notice the daylight creep through the curtains as my fingertips beg my pillow for sleep. take turns to treat each other like children. i read fairytales on the train and stare at your work shoes, you all look mouse eyed and dissatisfied and i wonder how i fit. foxes running away from me. i will smother myself in another thick coat of vanilla but the things someone said and did are always at the back of my mind.





picture of us playing the flying game by lovely sophie