Our skin sheds in the most inconvenient places.

One moment, you are alone in a room full of should-no-longer-be-strangers; the next, your DNA is on the floor.

Sometimes when you touch your hair, several strands fall to the ground.

Whether you pick them up depends on the circumstances.

When you are a child, invisibility is a game. You hide behind a tree, search for leprechauns, become engrossed in the bark.

No one believes that invisibility is a game.

Continue reading at Sweet: A Literary Confection.


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