You clumsy . . .
The hairbrush clipped my ear, hit the wall, then clacketered to the floor, dissolving into pieces of metal, china, bristle, stardust.
My fault, of course. The swan’s ugly duckling daughter. No redeeming qualities. No subtle grace and classic beauty.
My mother’s oh, so elegant friends gather for coffee and tiny cakes. My mother talks about the daughter she should have had.
My mother waits for my father, sipping wine and dreaming of the daughter they will now have. Her clock is ticking, she will say.
I put on my best dress, prettiest jewelry. I neatly place the empty glass next to my journals. I lie down and wait.
My elegantly-written note: “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Writing Prompt 144, Collage 16.