A woman behind glass looking sad

All she knew

She didn’t know anything about that. All she knew was what she knew: a mind flush with resentment, bitterness burning her esophagus, her chest deflating with hurt. She knew the way, every time she brushed her teeth, she’d pick up the little tube of Clearasil, thinking it was toothpaste. She’d trained herself not to reach for it, but no matter how many times she’d told herself, “Of course that’s the Clearasil, dum dum,” she kept lifting up the little tube night after night, expectantly, as if it would turn into Crest.


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