Photo by David Clode on Unsplash
by Mikki Aronoff
Think about what brought you joy as a child, my life coach prompts.
Control, I think, but don’t say, shifting in my seat, reaching for the cool bottle of Evian she hands me every session. Making my parents regret I was born.
Snakes, I reckon, I say out loud, unscrewing the cap, how they slithered and hissed as they knotted and unknotted, weaving through my fingers, wrapping themselves around my neck and crawling through my hair, how they haunted my dreams, emerald eyes lasering through mine as we tussled over logs rotting in the forest, ended up in a spiraled embrace, drained, my skin scaling….
I watch Jane fidget and squirm behind her desk, eyes looking everywhere but at me.
Could’ve sworn you’d say, “arts and crafts,” she mumbles as she consults her watch, pushes her ergonomic chair back towards the wall, cranks the window open.
Mikki Aronoff lives in New Mexico, where she writes tiny stories and advocates for animals. She has stories in Best Microfiction 2024/2025 and Best Small Fictions 2024 and upcoming in Best Small Fictions 2025.
