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It’s hazy and there is a woman inside. I am on the black metal porch. She is washing dishes and humming. The walls inside are light yellow, like my socks, which are rolled down to look like little donuts, and like my bowtie. The window is foggy around the edges. I stand on my tippy toes to watch the woman.


The lady is walking towards me.


She asks me if I want to cut off my ponytail to have short hair like the rest of the little boys, but I shake my head and tell her I like the yellow ribbon that ties it together. She asks me if I am okay, and I shrug because I don’t remember the word to explain that I don’t like sitting by myself on the porch. She smiles and says she loves me, and I feel sunny like my socks for a second, but she gets up and walks back into the house after she pats me.


My eyes are heavy, but it’s too light out to sleep. The lady says I can only sleep when it’s dark, but I think it’s okay to sleep whenever, because when you sleep, it is dark.

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