In lieu of air conditioning by Bet Lewis Mom snaps the shirt off and over my head giving my arms no choice but to acquiesce. She holds my T-shirt under the tap. I press my bare, flat chest against the cool porcelain of the pedestal sink to watch the fabric absorb and darken. She wrings it out and up-nods her head— her subtle command for me to raise arms into the dark cool shirt. She sends me to bed, a drop of water sliding down my leg. Bio: Bet Lewis uses writing, photography, and digital collage to explore and understand how various ego-states develop and effect the self. She holds a BFA from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and resides in Indianapolis with her partner, daughter, and two worthless cats.
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.