Wendy McGrath

“She thought of the little disks hidden in her closet and under her bed and at the back of her drawers. They were her secret. The disks she made let her hold those times and remember them forever. Like putty her father had used to fill the nick in the cupboard, her disks dilled the empty space that was left behind wen a moment was over. Her mother and father could never find them.”
― Wendy McGrath, North East

“She stared at her mother's hat resting so quiet and rich on top of her parent's closet. It had a soft brown velvet brim ad white feathers were peeking out brown with dots and that hat was amazing because it stayed so solid and fixed to the shelf and yet the girl thought the feathers made it seem as if it could just fly away when she wasn't looking and if it really wanted to. Anyway, maybe the hat had thoughts of its own or could absorb all the thoughts and made-up stories of the person who wore the hat and keep them under the velvet brim and hide them in between the soft feathers as if they were eggs and keep them warm until they escaped.”
― Wendy McGrath, North East