Exodus Oktavia Brownlow

Six feet could be ten feet. Six feet could be sixty. Six feet was not a lot. Six feet was one of him. It starts with an ending. Bleek, a man with big hips. They curved against the box. And he saw their fullness. The mirror reflected. Lying, they looked more grave. And he understood why. Why they gave him such looks. Why they envied his curves. Six feet could be ten feet. Six feet could be fifty. Six feet was not a lot. One new fridge—a big box. Bleek had an old iPhone. With service still intact. It was…