this began as a story about hurt.

[laxlady4]

when i was in the fourth grade, my teacher kept a mason jar of vinegar on his desk for a week, a raw egg slid carefully inside. i watched it with the eyes of a young scientist, intent on uncovering the truth of the matter. i kept notes. i put myself on notice. on wednesday he drained the vinegar over the classroom sink, the stench burning our young nostrils, and caught the egg carefully in his callused country boy hands. the shell was gone, disappeared, nothing but insides left. you could see what was hidden finally, a secret leaked with intent. he let us touch it, one by one cradled over the silver sink, the roughest of the boys finally pushing too hard, the yolk spilling out of its thin casing and down the drain.

i have spent years building a shell around my heart, brittle and unmoving, and you have finally dissolved me.