BY MEGHAN PHILLIPS
We don’t braid each other’s hair. Can’t stand the yank tug of the brush, the drag of bristles over scalp. Warm breath on the backs of our necks. We sit knee-to-knee. Rub each other’s scars with cocoa butter. Pink arms pink thighs pink cheeks seamed through like C- home ec. projects.
FINAL GIRL SLUMBER PARTY
in Online Issue