Why, precisely, was he sleeping on his couch? Avery didn’t own a terribly comfortable couch, he preferred to avoid sleeping on it at all costs. He r...lled back onto his side and found himself staring a vase made of blue glass that was sitting on his coffee table. Shit, it wasn’t a dream, he thought, sitting up and kicking aside the blanket he’d pulled over himself. I’m apparently just going crazy. What other explanation was there? It all started to come back to Avery as he wandered into the. Despite how my mother treated me, the budding breasts in the mirror said so.But this story really isn't about me. Its about my mother, who some twenty years ago was totally nude for the camera. Her naked black body tied down to each corner of a bed post. Her afro covered head looking on with great interest and passion as some rounded object neared her open dark thighs. I stood looking at the first picture for five minutes, forgetting to breath several times. I was awed by both my mother's. More

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