Mr. Fox

by Helen Oyeyemi

I always understood that it was a story, like all her other ones, the fairy tales she told. I’ve taken no harm from its not coming true. I don’t expect it to come true.

it’ll be strange to both of us to remember that we ever understood each other.

She encouraged herself to see her very small presence in the world as a good thing, a power, something that a hero might possess.

Flowers and fairy tales were all very well, but they began to take their toll on her. Independently and in unison they made insinuations, the flowers and the fairy tales.

They wondered why things were like that between them when other people loved each other less and had peace.