i wrote this, but wasn't going to post it because it even made me a bit queasy. but i'd hate for harper to run out of those vomit marshmallows. so here goes.
I wiped an eyelash off his cheek and told him to make a wish.
“It’s your turn.”
I can’t tell you what I wished before I blew it off my finger, because then it might not come true.
And I want it to come true.
i could make rice krispie treats myself, but i think i've eaten all the cereal.