Grandma’s always had big teeth.
She keeps them in a glass of water on her bedside table, and spends most days gummy as a babe.
I think she only puts them in when I come round.
She says she’s happiest living in the forest. Reminds her of her childhood, being raised by wolves.
More than just raised, if I’m anything to go by.
Still, I worry for her. That’s why every couple of weeks, I’ll bring her a basket of treats. She’ll put in her teeth, I’ll say how big they are, and we’ll feast on a woodcutter’s bleeding heart.
0 comments… add one