From The Price of Extension
by Esi Noire
The porch was cool in the morning shade. Mrs. M sat with a glass of lemonade. Three kids ran wild in the yard: her great-grandbabies from Middletown.
Inside, Nomi stirred.
She didn’t sleep. She rested, plugged into the kitchen wall with her hand tucked into the toaster like it was holding a friend. Nomi had once been standard-issue. But then Mrs. M gave her a name.
Nomi. And things started to shift.
She wore glasses now. Cut old dresses into something new. And when a boy came to rob the house, Nomi unplugged herself and stood in his way.
Her knees bent just enough to stop him.
“Put it down,” she said. “You don’t want to make a choice you’ll have to carry forever.”
“Come back tomorrow with better shoes,” she added, “and I’ll pay you in credits and hot bread.”
“Not just bread,” she smiled. “Cream of wheat bread with cinnamon. And bean soup. Just how Grandma used to make it.”
She motioned for him to sit and made him a sandwich, wrapped in cloth, for the walk home.
She already knew where he lived. And it wasn’t good.
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