Clever is the Devil: Prologue

I was born in a thunderstorm. Momma woke up at the beginning of it, clutching her bulging torso, and by the end, there I was.

“Came into this world screaming like the devil himself was after her,” she liked to say. “My first glimpse of my baby girl was during a flash of lightning. Everything was black and white because of it. ‘Cept for her. She was a red, glistening thing. So I named her Ruby.”

Momma thought this was poetic. She didn’t realize it made her sound simple. I lived with her for twenty years, and all that time, I thought she was simple. It was only after she passed away that I realized how smart she was.

“Don’t ever fuck a man prettier than you are,” she had once told me.

I should have listened to her…

 

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