Glass Ceilings

oke to

r ears ring. The kind that let you know something

ment had taught her how to move without waking ghosts - or her little sister, Mya, w

on her hoodie. The same one she wore

careful not to step on the one

lled like stale smo

floor, the TV still glowing with an old gospel station

ew her mom was alive - she could hear the low, guttural snore. It was somethin

alf a lemon, a ketchup packet, and a container of rice from three nig

at the cloc

mile and tip her a dollar or two, and she'd pretend it made her feel seen. After her shift, she'd pick up Mya fr

ife. Not drama

arried a world no

never looked

looked at h

hat looked

ed how she looked, but because she needed to see that she still existed. T

ng to herself. A pray

t even su

her phone and the last $12 into her poc

like it always did -

ke she always did - tired