Two Kisses From Across The Street

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Two Kisses Across the Street Shrinks You and Keeps the Photo She lives across the street. She can see the sofa. She calls. You do not answer. She calls again. Miss Nancy your stepmummy wanted a household of her own. She never got one. So she watches. Kind to the road. Odd with you. She still owes you money. You do not ask. Her temper is real. Tonight she says things have changed. Celebrate. Come over. Black dress. Cover your eyes. You expect new clothes. You get a pink swimsuit. And a plan she will not name. Swimming, she says. Then the first kiss. Something slips. Scale. Balance. You cannot name it yet. The second kiss finishes what the first began. You are tiny. Pink set waiting. Diddy. Bottle. Matching. Chosen before you walked in. She does not rush the change. She lets you feel each stage. Smaller. Then smaller again. Her face further away. The room wrong. The outfit that only fits what you are becoming. Then the care starts. clean padding. Fresh. Fitted. Stepmummy checks you. Settles you. Diddy when you fuss. She feeds you. Soft. Close. The feeding is performance. The claiming is not. You think the pool is next. The camera is next. Smile. Teeth. She laughs. The invitation was never swimming. The picture goes to your partner unless she has the four digits. Kindness used as leverage. The change used as proof. You fold. You give her the number she already knew she would get. Neighbour. Window. Two kisses. Padding. Pink set. Stepmummy. The code. You do not know what comes after the laugh. That is the point.