How To Survive This Fairytale

Chapter 16

TELL HER STORIES.

“If I had my way, Friend,” you whisper, on your bedroom floor, wrapped up in quilts, “you’d be a proper lapdog. You’d have nothing to do but look out the window and huff at squirrels. You’d never work. And if you had to, your work wouldn’t be…”

To say it, even to your dog, is treason.

So she stops you from saying it with her sloppy tongue against your cheek.

(And how can you know—how can you possibly know—that in telling her stories, you are giving her ideas?)