Breathe me in. Huff-huff and go we don’t belong here.
It’s in the air around you. The scent of the spice exudes from your pores. Hiding your clothes is no longer effective.
Give in. They tell you to try harder, to shower before you walk to their house. Your constant ablutions mean nothing.
Who are you fooling? You worked to perfect their clipped accent, but you shortened the wrong vowels and they know.
Assuage. The word tripped you up and dragged you down so have some more. Rise yourself up but not like that, enough of the silliness.
It won’t **** you. Say your mother was *****, you might as well whisper it to them. They’ll believe anything.
A moment more. The days will drag by and your face will crack and the Children of the Sky will look down. Their gaze will seek to strip you; your raspy breath will betray you.