The Sway
When it was sticky cool at night, he'd pull her hair up off her neck and spin it like a pinwheel. “You could be anything," he would say. “You could be a preschool teacher.” She waited for him to add, “For dragons! For wallabees! For elephants!" but he didn't. On her back, his hands were as flat as he was. In her head, she saw herself breaking each of his faithless, unimaginative knuckles. Still, she let him lead her around the room in waltzes and foxtrots, the smell of sweat rising from his skin like smoke.
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Author's Note
Once, a colleague of mine told me I could do any job I wanted. "Well," she said, "I wouldn't suggest you be a preschool teacher." That line/idea has stayed with me since, so, naturally, I twisted it and added some more words.
Other stories by Chanel Dubofsky
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Um, ok, this is AMAZING Chanel!! I super love it.* Faithless, unimaginative knuckles?? I can totally see them. Beautiful.
Agree with the amazing category. Has a nice bite to it. You can almost see the blood.
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No, preschool is probably not your thing, but this is a gem of a story! *