Every Friday night daddy comes home from work carrying a brown paper bag filled with comic books like Little Lulu, Archie or Superman, and chunks of chocolate, the white kind from that special store. Standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs, I watch as he hands the bag to my big sister. Something for my lovely princess, he says, pulling her close. Don’t forget it’s our secret. He gives her a squeeze. I get to my room before the tears start. Why her? Why always her?
not seeing the darkness
until the light