Ronita Awoonor Gordon
“I spy with my little eye a world that has no place for me anymore”. Molly muttered the words under her breath as they drove away from their 7th house in 13 years. At this point she had stopped making friends because each goodbye was heavier than the last. She couldn’t bear another set of ‘firsts’. Another first day, another “the new girl has a weird accent”, another isolated lunchtime, picturing her face in the dictionary next to the word lonely. Had she grown too big to fit into this world or had she become so small that invisible was her middle name?