Brian Clifton, “from The Introvert’s Guide to Dreams”

You stroke your daughter’s hair and pass over a lump in the center of her head. You brush her hair away to reveal her nose, her opened mouth. She inhales. You’ve made a tragic mistake. In go the flies that hung around the dark corners of her room. She swallows their wings, their empty bottle bodies. Her eyes do not blink as they sit her up and float her around the room.