by Michelle Flores
Her head is in my hands now. Hair shaven, eyes closed. A yin and yang of skin and scar. Gently, I rub her velvet scalp, careful to avoid the fading sutures. She smiles, eyes still closed as she drifts off to sleep.
Curious, I slowly brush my left finger across the C-shaped scar. Hair and thread poke my finger tip, and a sharp intake of breath tells me she’s awake.
“Careful,” she says.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breathing slows. I lean in to kiss her cheek. She quickly pulls the sheet over her face. The shadows from the bedside lamp create a forest in which I find myself lost.
Being a native Floridian and current resident, Michelle Lizet Flores is happy to have returned to the land where trees don’t sleep. A graduate of FSU and NYU creative writing programs, she currently works as a 5th grade reading teacher where she fosters the next generation of American writers. She has previously been published in magazines such as The Miami Rail, Noble/Gas Qtrly, and Rigorous, and has work forthcoming in Gravel Magazine, Azahares, The Bookends Review, and Cagibi. Find out more at michellelizetflores.com.
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