Flow

Flow was a whale. She dreamed she would one day be a singer. The first whale singer. When she sang it came out in soft squeaks. When she tried singing for her mother her mother cried her terror in her apron. When she sang for her sister her sister bawled in her bib. When she sang for her brother he excused himself to go to the bathroom. When she sang to herself she hugged herself. In her brain she was on a stage and all the world clapped for her. A few weeks later she signed herself up for SING FOR THE KING. You didn’t actually sing for the king of course. You sang for the mayor. When she did sing for her mother her mother cried tears of joy in her apron. When she sang for her sister her sister slept her drool dropping on her bib. When she sang for her brother he excused himself and hugged her tightly making her barf out her dinner. He did not care. The next day she waited in line behind the stage. “I wanna be last! This is scary!” somebody said “Naw, more time to get nervous, first is best.” another person responded. Flow looked down at her paper. She was last. She listened to the other whales pass her with shaking tail fins. Flow closed her eyes and didn’t let anyone set a fire under her ego. It was as burned as it was. She got up on the stage and closed her eyes. One two, One two…