“You're too thin,” said her mother. “Eat.”
Lisa picked at her iceberg lettuce salad, and grilled cheese on Wonder bread.
“People are starving in India,” said her mother.
“Let them have it, then.”
“Go to your room!”
Lisa turned off her light, ignoring her growling stomach. At night they came through her bedroom mirror, brown ghouls with long fingernails and hollow eyes, faces from Baptist missionary literature, and gnawed on her bones.
“Meera! Eat your dahl! People are starving in Appalachia!”
Meera covered the mirror in her room with an old sari, and shook off the superstition. Still there are the tiny mirrors in her bedspread, with their sharp little teeth, waiting.
published 25 April 2012