Our Aunt brushed our long tangled hair. We take turns sitting on her lap. We changed it up and watch each other in horror.
Our brother was fair game as well. Unfortunately, he had blackheads on his back. He sat obediently and sometimes pinned in bellyflop position. The cigarette-stained and smoke-filled carpet itched his belly.
Our Father came home after a supposedly busy day at work. He was most likely fucking a virgin college student. Our fifteen-year-old babysitter had a weekly supply of Parliaments. He smirked in disdain as he fetched a cheap beer from the rattling horizontal coldbox.
To be continued.
Her mourning coffee 