As she drinks from the other tit, the steady white noise infiltrates my consciousness. To hear myself think, my thoughts have to yell. But I want to be free. The dark room swallows my sentence. Button’s eyes are closed like any newborn pup’s. The noise machine doesn’t falter. I continue screaming: Let me be a child. If only I could sit at my desk. I turn to the dim walls around us. My nose starts to run and my belly is squished by the weight of Button. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and it’s impossible not to feel pitiable. My legs are tight and sore from not moving enough. My neck
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