11-5-24
Meagan has high-gloss brown hair that waterfalls over her shoulders like thick-lacquered mahogany. I ask her if I can run my fingers through it, plait it into a fat rope down her back; I only know how to love things with my hands. Meagan says I smell like sap and sawdust and diesel exhaust; Meagan says Brillo pad callouses snag and catch and tear like Velcro.
After she leaves, I will find my bedsheets splintered with long brunette hairs for another thirteen months.
Danielle Barr is a full-time stay-at-home mom and sometime-writer. She was recently named the winner of the Driftwood Press annual short story contest and is currently querying her first novel. She lives in rural Appalachia with her husband and four young children.