On Rotation

by Shirlene Obuobi

Who the fuck did any of these men who played games with the hearts of women like we weren’t real, breathing, feeling people deserving of respect think they were?

“Leave me alone. I can’t control my face.” “You really can’t,” Ricky said. “You’re like a cartoon character. Everything comes out through the face. The rest through your hands.”

Being family doesn’t get you a free pass to talk to me however you’d like.”