“Yes. The hiss of the aerosol can, the scent of Lemon Pledge. She is awake. Her mother is dusting her room. The Hoover stands upright, ready. “Finally,” the mother says. “You’re awake. I’ve been working around you.” “Don’t we have a maid?” the girl asks. “Once a week,” the mother says. “But things get dirty every day, don’t they?” The vacuum is on, the white headlight glows against the carpet. “I worry about you,” the mother says over the din. “Aren’t you more worried about break...ing a nail?” “They’re fakes.” The mother taps her nails against the handle of the Hoover. “If one breaks, I just glue on a new one.” She stops vacuuming, picks up a piece of clothing from the floor, folds it, and puts it on top of the dresser. “Are you getting up?” she asks. “It’s a brand-new day.” The girl was awake earlier. She heard her father get up, her mother rising with him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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