Morethanadaughter Online
“You’ve been crying,” her mother said.
Mira tightened her grip anyway. “Where else would I go?” morethanadaughter
She filled three pages. Then four. Then ten. Each line was a small rebellion against the narrowing definition of her life. “You’ve been crying,” her mother said
That night, she sat alone in her mother’s apartment, which was now her apartment, or would be once she figured out what her meant. The notebook lay open on the coffee table. She read the list again: I am the person who… Then four
She began to write in a notebook her mother had given her years ago, the one with the blue silk cover and the words “For your dreams” embossed in gold. Only now, Mira wasn’t writing dreams. She was writing down everything she was besides a daughter.
