The trip up north felt like punishment


Shinae would never understand how a body could wear so many clothes every day.  Even the biggest bird could not carry the feathers in this coat.  But the boots were the worst; waterproof lead weights that they expected her to run in and not fall.  And the falls weren’t even cushioned by the pillowy snow. It crunched on impact, as if each flake were enrobed in ice.  Even the sledding was more discomfort than thrill after ten minutes. Why were all the Spring Break activities winter sports? The whole trip was based on lies. Every photo the Canadian cousins had sent was a terrible lie.  Surely there were tears in the eyes hidden by the mirrored glasses, the photoshop-white teeth frozen into smiles.   How could they have the same genetics? Aunty didn’t understand the forty minute hot baths she had to have every night.  As she soaked she wondered whether mamma had found out she let the Levy boy put his hand on her new flesh – the soft round barely there breast.  She wondered if there’d still be more punishment when she got back to  Kingston.

8 min @ Tisserie, NYC
dip source: The New Yorker, April 3 2017

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