“Joanne’s not a doll. She’s your sister, and she needs me.” The dishevelled mother looked away. “Besides, you’re eighteen now. Enough already.”
“Momma, please,” Ghalhana said through a crying jag. “Vincent and I broke up today. Put her down. I need you.” She held her arms outstretched. “Hug me.”
Her mother tightened the embrace. “Grow up! Act like an adult.”
Ghalhana sobbed, standing before them. Her mother rocked in Grandma’s chair.
The doll’s eyelids opened. Its head cranked to the left. “Mom-ma.”
“That’s right, Joanne. Momma’s here.”
The doll’s head rotated toward Ghalhana. Its plastic lips cracked into a smile.
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alt="Timeliness by Stephen Sottong"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="A Torso for Tomorrow by Randall Andrews"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="A Rip in Time by Andrew Kurtz"
class="motion-reduce"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Tomorrow by B.G. Smith"
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>