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Weekly Contest #250
Mama whispered in muted tones that sounded like a lullaby in my ears. She patted my head and dragged the long nails of her fingers through my hair every so often. I loved it when she followed the trail of my brown hair down from my scalp to my back. I enjoyed the clicking sound the baby pink nails made when they rubbed together. “It seems wrong,” she said in her soft murmur. “Cruel.”Papa either knew my drooped head and spaghetti-limp arms were a rouse, or he didn’t care about waking me. He heaved a great sigh and spoke in his regular b...
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