She likes to think she's perfect.
She knows the right things to say and the right time to say them.
She likes to think she's just and even handed and neutral.
She has a high tolerance for chaos and ambiguity and can heat sugar at a high temperature without letting it scorch.
She makes crafts and, conducts plays, holding together the whole thing with scotch tape. She's supple and endlessly patient even during the longest, most sluggish afternoons.
The trouble is, she is the third person. The third person casts a shadow over the first.
The first person gets beyond frustrated with the limits of scotch tape, gets weary with endless plays that have to end jaggedly because there is no more will to sit through them and she frets and sighs loudly over how the crafts gum up the grooves of the table.
First person moves too fast for slow afternoons.
I am kicking out third person.
She makes everything harder.
I'll make my peace with scotch tape.
I'll take my chances with the hot sugar.