organized raze there's a shelf built into the base of her bed. all her stuffed animals are books with their pages torn out. i turn a rabbit around to see the face on the back of its head. white fur tinged with blue. a small, secret smile. i ask if that means this story has a good ending. she says it does. she runs her fingers through my hair like my mother might have if she'd been born a different person. she says she can help me organize my thoughts. get rid of what isn't wanted. "i have a lot of connections," she says. "even if no one wants to use them. my suit makes them seem more official." the only suit she's got was made to absorb sweat. red shapes i can't place rise to stain her skin like words she hasn't found a way to set free. my unhatched thoughts simmer somewhere deeper, not yet ready to be known. 240212 what's it to you? who go blather from