Get It Moving

Lion whistles as we walk inside my closet/get-ready station.

“Damn, this is very fancy-pantsy,” he says, looking around. It’s a walk-in closet with a lot of clothes, shoes and bags that belong to my mother.

“I know, my mom loved herself too much… more than she ever loved me, that’s for sure,” I mumble, casually trauma-dumping as I sit him down on the seat in front of the extravagant vanity. Lion starts shamelessly looking through the stuff in here, half mine and half my mom’s, while I look for the scissors. He’s smelling the perfumes like a creep when I finally find them, “Let go of that and sit your ass down.”

“Done and sat,” he says, obeying me in just two seconds. I really like it when he does everything I order. I should’ve gotten myself a young boy toy long ago. Well, not that long, that would be creepy, “Do whatever you want, you’ll be the only person looking at my hair for a while.”

“Well, I’m the most important person to ever live, so I still have to try,” I say and I look a