As a child, I was very superstitious. “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back” was a particular horror for me, and I worried over the logistics of this well into puberty. Words, of course, were a particular source of pain. I didn’t drink Coke, so I amended “jinx, buy me a Coke” to “jinx, buy me a milk” which probably won me no friends at all. Curses were little face-monsters I dutifully avoided. And lying was a sin.
Right around the time my superstition paranoia was at its height, I heard a story about someone’s shadow coming off, being peeled or pulled off. The specifics have been lost to me. But even now when I catch a glimpse of my shadow I feel like I could step on it like the hem of a long dress and it would fall away, be caught in the breeze, and disappear.
gratitude: great writing critique from great writers · homemade gluten-free bread that tastes like real bread · dogs wandering around in pubs just because