We left Egghead at the kitchen table counting the packets of her Sweet n’ Low collection. She had a plan for them which leaves a bitter after-taste.
The plan and her problem came to her on a Monday. Egghead had taken a nap during Reading Lab so she really didn’t need her after school coffee but she wanted it with a lust. She took the back road of Park St and cut through Married Man’s trail to Creek St and the Cafe. Rosie had told her to avoid that wooded trail because “something” might happen there and that’s precisely why Egghead took the path. She craved for something to happen. Since she started living with Rosie, life had become regulated.
Every Thursday, Rosie separated colors, checked pockets and used dryer sheets. Everything had its place in Rosie’s house but, that’s not why Rosie needed to die. Egghead’s reason for the death sentence didn’t exactly follow a mainstream flow of logic. Every night, Egghead huffed her pillow as she curled herself under Rosie’s quilt and in the morning those same blankets seemed to choke her, or was it that alarm clock jabbing her into the jagged edges of Rosie’s reality? Egghead couldn’t breathe the air in the world of normal.
Having nothing better to do on that Monday, Egghead sat with her coffee and stared at the Sweet ‘n Low packets.The lights in her mind flashed in a white-man’s rhythm of cause and effect. . She pocketed the first stack without really thinking. It wasn’t until later that she saw the fake Sugar as a solution. Death by saccharine would slow possibly reversible process. She knew Rosie’s death was her only escape but, every time she tried to imagine a world without Grandma Rosie her belly ached in an echo.