| -Uncategorized

“Mother? Am I adopted?”

A tiny hand slipped into mine. The moment of truth? Raised her as our
own flesh and blood, but mirrors always told her she was different.

“Kids at school say I’m a freak.”

“No, dear, don’t mind them.” I embraced her, warm skin over cold
metal. Not adopted—assembled from love.

You can comment with Disqus or you can e-mail me at sacha@sachachua.com.