KNOCK, KNOCK

The door to her heart was big and scary, covered in bits of barbed wire.  The wood was so dark it almost looked black, "how fitting," he thought as he approached.  Despite these defenses, it was easy enough to get in.  It was unlocked.  All he had to do was walk up and turn the knob; he wondered briefly why no one else had figured this out, but soon he was overcome with curiosity.  The place was some sort of organized chaos, in one corner snow was pouring onto a palm tree, but the snow was powdered sugar and the tree was rooted to the sky.  The next corner held midget giraffes on stilts.  "No wonder she's crazy," yet as he looked around, he began to understand.  When he reached the fifth corner he became confused, because like the others it was a perfect ninety degree angle, "impossible, it doesn't add up.  She is impossible."  The edge of this space held a large bright blue bookcase, arranged and labeled were deflated balls, bent slinkies, dolls missing eyes, empty cake pans, decks of 49 cards, melted crayons, and something that made him stop.  An empty spot on the shelf-- the label read, "Brandon S."  He knew his place now.  In her heart, he was just another toy.

Amanda rhymes with panda, she finds it difficult to write about herself and spent much time debating first vs third person.  Third sounded like fun, and therefore won.  She has lived everywhere from California to Maine and currently resides in Guam where she is attending college to get the wonderfully useful English degree.  Until that graduation thing, there is no life plan maybe some midnight pancakes, maybe some knitting, maybe some car crashes, it happens.