11
Hooker Shoes
The little black dress fits—just barely. I guess the breakup diet hasn’t kicked in yet. But because my heart isn’t shattered into forty-two pieces and embedded in my chest wall, I should be careful that this breakup diet doesn’t go in the wrong direction, as in, I’m having so much fun being broken up that I balloon like a blue whale in a krill swarm.
God, my chin doesn’t look like a blue whale’s, does it? I examine every angle in the mirror. No double chin. Yet. Nurse Bob has one. Granted, he’s fifty-two and likes his beef jerky too much, but still.
Wide bracelet to cover Oliver Otter. Matching earrings. Drop of perfume behind each ear. Thank you, Cosmo, for teaching me how to be a girl. My poor father.
A knock sounds at the door.
I grab my stuffed otters and give the
