Becoming

That July there were five Becomings. I hated spending my small allowance on crappy gifts, and Mom complained about driving me around town. It was different when she was my age. Back then, she said, a Becoming was a discreet affair, marked in private with close family. I told her not to worry: she would never...
Flaming fiddles, it looks like there’s a roadblock here! If you’d like to finish reading this piece, please buy a subscription—you’ll get access to the entire online archive of F(r)iction.