earlier in the week while the rain was pit pit pitter pattering on the roof and I was sitting there just sitting there staring out the big window four times my size, i started crying. it was soft at first just a tear or two on each cheek, and I could hide it when I tried, but then within a few mere minutes it started pouring and I couldn't stop it or hide it, it was just kind of messy and my face was all damp and sticky.

the little tiny person (i imagine him to be a little boy with a tiny red-and-cream striped shirt and little blue pants that fit him just so and a head of blonde hair that falls to the right on his forehead) walks back and forth between the front of the line and the back of the line as a ghost might do when deciding whether or not he or she would like to make an entrance. the little boy is quiet and all he wants is to be held because his mother is missing and he feels so lonely here. the boy is walking up slowly to the front now timidly creeping along checking every quite often to make sure that no one notices him or is following him and he tippy toes into somewhere

in the middle.

this tiny little boy lives inside of my stomach, well, he actually lives closer to my intestines because this is where I imagine him at. he doesn't talk to me very much except to ask me where he can find a cookie or if he can please go to the bathroom because he's about to wet his pants. i try to tell him every time that he doesn't have to ask all he has to do is imagine the things that he wants and they will exist. he can have whatever he wants.

he wants something very badly right now.

i think we'll meet him soon.