Later, the room slid wide. I was lonely without my walls. It opened the sky into our alley, into my room. I couldn't see it then. People who live in glass houses should watch their words.
Children grow transparent with the outside looking in.
Here, a child utters glass. She speaks and shards fall from her teeth. Some words are cinderblock, think of that. When the child sees a mirror, she can't speak. The glass, uncracked, glances back.