I had been pronouncing my name wrong for so long, I forgot what my mother had named me. It’s a confusing, twisted name that people paused before reading aloud. The kind of name they always asked to repeat. I got so tired of it that I altered it slightly, so that their tongues found it easier to roll around it.
You said it right the very first time. You asked me if that is, in fact, the right way to say it. I heard the hesitation in your voice, perhaps anticipating a retort, a reprimand.
And just like that, you shifted something in the air. You reminded me what I had forgotten – my own name. Like my name was a secret that only you and I could get right.
Hi everyone! I’m working on a minimalist fiction project for this year’s #AtoZChallenge. The story will be shared in snippets, and the events occur non-sequentially. It is for the reader to interpret and form the “whole”. You can read all the posts here. Join me, and do share links to your AtoZ posts as well!