I take my thumb out, wipe it on my shirt, turn onto my back and stare at the whorls on my ceiling. Here is my white sky. White Sky , I think. And then I think nothing. The beginning is always so hard.
Any beginning is always so hard.
I have some blouses here for you. I sit up, straighten the spread beside me. And when my father comes home, we're going to McDonald's, he already said. I line my feet up beside each other, push my hair neater under my headband. I will think of something to ask Ginger so that her answer will be long and interesting.