Glass (Crank 2)

swells. I instruct myself

to remember that advice

whenever I happen to sense

confrontation, or feel the

urge to turn tail and run.

Today confrontation

is immediate, the instant

Dad lurches through

the front door. Hi, honey,

I’m home. The joke falters.

And then he catches sight

of Leigh. Oh my God.

It can’t be my little Layla.

You really grew into

a beauty…. He pauses,

waiting for some response.

Nothing. Can I have a hug?

Out come Leigh’s claws.

I don’t hug strangers.

Who the hell are you?

Her face contorts, a

subconscious effort to

make itself less beautiful.

It fails. I steel myself

for a lob of curses, but

Heather refuses to let

the verbal battle begin.

She walks over to Dad,

extends a hand, and tries

(obviously so) not to inhale