lay on the table.
driped from my buring cheeks.
My eyes looked at the blury representation of my kitchen
She walked in.
I did not hear her
but I knew she existed
and I knew she was watching
Her hand went over my tattered hair,
And she set a small ginger cookie
on the table.
I looked up and comfirmed my instinct
I looked at her,
Eyes still blurry,
Ever knowing the healing power of a cookie.