She didn’t like it when people argued with her, told her she should have greater ambitions. She knew what she wanted, which was to have a baby, and to tell the baby always, “You are mine, mine, mine.” And she would be married to the baby’s father and he would also say to the baby, “You are mine, mine, mine.” She knew, even if she was only fourteen years old, that these were decent aspirations, knew that was a good way, the right way to raise a baby. She knew because she was still in the same state home where she had been abandoned fourteen years ago; she knew how it should have been. Now, partway to her goal, she smiled softly, hands on her belly, whispering, “You’re mine; you’re mine, mine, mine.
This week’s cue is “mine”.