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“Mondays are the best days! Like, aren’t you excited about the start of a new week? It’s like a new chapter in a book. And the best part, even though we at school, we get to be together again—all day, all week.”
That’s why if Ma was a color, she’d be pink with her sweetness. A tender flower, a bubbly pop of chewing gum, two scoops of strawberry ice cream. Silly in her girly ways, her color deepens with love, until she glows fuchsia—bright and bold, unstoppable. But when she is not fed the riches that life promises, Ma pales,
remaining but a tint above white, a color aching in want.
Rumors are born with legs that can run a mile in less than a minute. Rumors eat up dreams without condiments. Rumors do not have expiration dates. Rumors can be deadly.
Rumors can get you killed.
“In this life, you don’t always get what you want, but you must dance through it,” she said. “Listen to the piano, Claudia! It has the beat you crave. You just have to listen.”
