[Lanrete]: 546.Contest Entries.Drabbles.Inheritance

Barefoot, I careen over the graying cracks and potholes, feeling as young as these roads are old. Got no immediate reason to stop, or to put on my sandals, so I don’t. There’s a wild hilarity somewhere behind my throat singing crazy, crazy, crazy at the top of its lungs, and I lend it my voicebox and scream. A spark travels from my heels up through a hundred miles of tan, tangled leg and into my eyes, descended from ten thousand years of girls before me. The girls in me aren’t pretty or ladylike. Together, we are wild, and we are happy.