Her Malicious Spot
Leah wants to hide. Someone keeps telling her to die. That someone’s on her forehead. And it won’t shut up.
“She abstained from milk, cheese, butter and oil, though she longed for their taste and chewed her plain bread with much discontent. She ran in the valley, swam in the lake and scrubbed her skin with thistle stems. She was fresh, clean and healthy. Yet the spot would not budge. And all her efforts subsided into the same frantic scratch, scratch, scratch upon that meddlesome, reddening node.”