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by Rivers Solomon

Max, my therapist, once had me make a list of five activities that could ground me when I’m feeling away and unreal, like the world is a film set and I’m the animatronic baby being fake-sung to sleep by a C-list actress, my electronic eyelids clicking, malfunctioning, until one of the film crew sets me to the side and replaces me with a double. I am bad at homework and wrote only one item out of the assigned five. Make tea, loose.