(You can listen to this piece in S2E26 of the podcast)
In a world filled with carpenter ants and worker bees, Kelcy hung upside down from tree limbs like sloths; hands grasping, legs hooked atop branches like ivy. She’s so lazy these days, her mother complained. All summer long.
In a world humming with bands of gorillas and cackles of hyenas, Kelcy bellowed sobs into pillows. She hummed nursery rhymes that comforted her as a baby though now nine-years old. Occasionally, she deigned muteness.
In a world where one might find a charm of finches or a parliament of owls, Kelcy flapped her own wings and landed in the world of books. She read voraciously. She read for hours with no sleep and no food and no water. She’s got to come out and eat, her father said. Kelcy tried to pretend her world, the real world, didn’t exist.
Because in a world where ferrets gather in a business and eagles in a convocation, that summer Kelcy overheard her parents commence their ending. And it seemed a stench of skunks gathered as her family unraveled, and a shiver of sharks surrounded them in their weakened state, and no cloud of grasshoppers, no tower of giraffes could lift her from this ruin.
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