The Thursday Fair

Reds and purples stirred together in pots made of clouds. Behind the trees the last drop of sun sizzled through. Cotton candy sweetness rested on my lips and the smell of burnt popcorn hovered on my left. My hair whips around my neck when I walk past the Hammerhead, its carts flipping laughter over waves. For the first time I feel happiness without remorse. I hold onto the fluffy bear I won while throwing darts at balloons and smile at my mother. She’s so different now, without the smell of alcohol covering her lavender perfume. Her wings are opening and she huddles me into her chest. When she speaks she sounds like a dove.