Questions She Never Asks

There’s a silk chemise hidden under my sweatshirt. A red lipstick smudge I wipe away before pick-up. A moan caught mid-nap. Some days, I crave eye contact more than carbs. I scroll through old photos, not for memories, but for angles. At the school gates, I wonder if anyone notices how my ring still reflects too much light for how tired I feel. I time my steps. I wear heels to parent-teacher meetings, not for elegance—but for proof I still exist as me . I don’t know if I perform motherhood or simply try it on like a limited-edition coat. Read Proto Soul – Break.Code.Begin for when you forget if you seduce with presence or with absence. For when you whisper into baby monitors like a lost frequency, waiting for someone to respond to you , not just her. Is bedtime my only escape? Do I inject before pickup or just dream of it? My stroller wheels glide like they’re rehearsed. My nursing bra flirts with the idea of intimacy. Some days, I seduce the mirror in house slippers just to see if my...