Ficlets

Residing Dreams (Chapter 115)

If they weren’t checking their make up or laughing about whose outfit clashed, they were chattering nonstop about their boyfriends and admirers. Usually, the male species was a topic that I found great interest in. But from the way these girls talked about boys, they might as well have been droning on and on about paperclips. They didn’t seem to much interest in me, either. When they noticed my hand painted lunchbox or tote bag, they always grimaced and said they were weird. One of them, a bleached blonde in a turtle neck tank top asked me, “Why is your name Essie? Did your parents forget a letter at the beginning or something? Like, what’s with that?” “My dad didn’t name me,” I responded. “My biological parents probably did. Look, that’s what the note said. Essie. I was left alone in a hospital room. That’s all there is to it,” I said flately.

View this story's 1 comments.