Unrevealing hands

I think it was my laugh. That hysterical gaggle from inside the throat that hits the air two seconds too long. It’s unladylike. Ungraceful. Too crude for someone with such small bones. I think it must have been my laugh. He looked at me and probably said that laugh is not real. That laugh makes her look silly. It doesn’t match her bones. What if my children learn it? What if they throw their heads back, just so and laugh like that? It couldn’t have been my hands, they hide so much, reveal so little. Perhaps it was my hair, candy floss, rough at the edges. Not my eyes. The vampire tooth?

No, it was probably the laugh.
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