zmantucan

In so many ways, Erica was still the same person. The same opiated, bossy, know it all who felt holier than though, despite the only religious language to ever pass through her thin lips was “Oh God” as she looked at something in disgust. Her sharp words could always cut from behind the sneer of her moon framed glasses, and the look on her face always made you feel like she knew something that you didn’t. Erica was gifted in always knowing how to cut someone down to make them feel as small as her. She hated being 4’10. She was always told that she would be short growing up. Erica was able to scientifically prove that sheer, unbridled anger at something can’t fix biology. Even her tallest heels would only make her tall enough to reach the bottom cupboard for a glass of fucking water. Was her entire life going to be determined if there was a stepstool nearby? When your parents are both under 5’4, these are things that under normal circumstances, you’re just forced to accept.