Doll Crimes
Some strange man and his open, giving hands.
I remember running down a hill in my Hello Kitty boots—the pink ones with those daisies drawn with black-rim lines. No, the boots were lilac. Or maybe that was the daisies. Kicking the dew off long blades of wild grass, my feet flying out in front of me in a thin spray of tiny water drops. Diamanté scatter. Hello Kitty flashing her mouthless, feline face at me from the top slopes of my encased feet, her expression benevolent under her slanted bow. My head throbbing as I slowed, so I pressed my hands to my scalp, feeling heat and grease and tight, tugging pain.
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