no_way_no_how
ovenbird Everyone who has swallowed down their “No” like banana flavoured antibiotics, raise your hand. Would everyone who has hidden their “No” behind their backs or stuffed it into their bra or tossed it into the nearest bush, please come forward. Who has a pile of “Nos” hidden under the bed? Or buried in the garden? Or forgotten in the attic?

My “No” is a dog I’ve trained not to bark. It’s a trumpet with a mute. It’s a transistor radio with the batteries ripped out. I silence my “No” in favour of peace through conciliation, and now there’s a backlog of unspoken resistance. It’s chalky and vile. It coats my throat.

Such a small word with such big repercussions. It’s a choking hazard, so I suck on it carefully, reduce it to a fragile wafer, then crack it with my teeth.
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