Hint: the girl whose mother spent the night before looking at baby photos of her, remembering the dimples on the backs of each finger and how her mouth was always shiny. The same girl whose mother spent the morning looking in the mirror as she pulled the skin back from her eyes to test its elasticity. That girl. This one, her eyes the color of moss on wood and teeth that surely must tap out perfection in Morse Code.
After hours spent laying out her clothes, this was the winning combo: neon yellow shorts, cat shirt, leopard sweater. Not pictured: brown knock-off Uggs. Yeah. Pictured: Confidence. Fuck Yeah.
Hi, I'm Susannah and I love shiny things, swimming, the smell of fresh cut grass, orange blossoms and horse shit. The feel of my children's eyelashes on my cheek is a live virus that grows in me, multiplies and sustains. I will never understand Amish Friendship Bread.
I write for love but money works, too. Email me for more info, or just to say hello.