Falling into Place Dora Vlassakis
I imagine her to be thirty two, bearing her first child. The splendor of life shone through her eyes, as she decorated the front lawn. She’s become quite festive, seven months in. Up the cobblestone path; the neighbor’s children beg for candy. The bumble bee giggles and stares. As the ghouls and goblins rub her belly. The shirt she wears does nothing to hide it, orange only accentuates her waist. She lifts her blouse to count the stretch marks; beauty imprinted on her skin. Two more months and counting. Motherhood begins.