by Jeff Baker
She doesn't have an original bone in her body. Since day one, my sister-in-law has become a blood-sucking, life-bleeding draw on all things good and kind. Is there a statute of limitations on how long we paste the friendly family face, when we can finally shed its iron mask and breathe deeply enough to shatter the hard edges of our frozen smiling lips? I resemble the Joker in Batman, now my face has twisted into a horrible sneer; it's been too long like this. She has crossed the line this one last time and there is no going back, my mask has one long and ugly crack, my sad and angry face is showing through. If only she had invited my children to her daughter's birthday party.
Jeff Baker is an alias for a writer who is discovering the release of secretly writing about family.