i. every now and then I sit at a table with my mother and I imagine somewhere else, someone exactly like me folds laundry, fresh with softener, and tells their mother about their day.

ii. I want to say every now and then I lie in the grass to gaze up at the stars and wonder when I’m allowed to go home, but I’m not allowed to lie in the grass. I lie in the grass in my head in the night and imagine it feels cool in the night wind.

iii. every now and then, I watch from the window as my dad cuts our rosebush all the way down so it can bloom back next year. At least if I survive the winter, there will be roses.

iv. my hands hurt every now and then and I think if I pulled out the nerves, they’d be covered in barbs. Or rose thorns.