Abecedarian -of or relating to the alphabet; alphabetically arranged

Her tiny fingertip painted in glossy nail polish, scratched at the top after having pushed his cousin Kevin on the seesaw for the whole afternoon.

“Sit down, have some juice”

The satin shirt of her mother rolled up to the elbows when cutting turkey breast, revealing a modern watch and a tiny butterfly inked on her wrist, dating back to when she was old enough to get drunk, but not enough to get a tattooist working on her without her parents’ consent.

She was struggling to grasp the straw with her mouth only, without making use of her hands.

“A…C…Ace” repeated the kid.

“What’s cool, dear?” joked her mum.

The kid ignored that word she didn’t know, focusing on the sequence of letters she was following with her index on the bottle of juice.

“A…b…c…d…e…”

Every other letter. Her face wrinkled in a smile of pride.

That was it!

She could not wait to share that exciting discovery with her mum and her cousin Kevin.

 

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Number 18

She just had a shower after a long walk. Scrubbing off the nuisances of the day, flushing them with Tea Tree body wash. She opened that door, to look for a bottle of grapefruit juice. There was none. But there was a mirror. A long mirror. Warm light disclosed the sharp right half of her face. She paused, stared. She sat on the floor, reaching her reflection with the tip of the index. She entertained herself in conversations that would never have took place.
Dating herself; a discovery; a necessary soliloquy.