My sister’s freckles fall off her face, fall down to the ground, with no one to go to. My dad’s freckles are sad; they are non-existent. My mom’s freckles fly like a bee searching for a fruitful flower. My freckles bounce from here to there like a grasshopper on a sunny summer day. But my friend’s freckles… my friend’s freckles…

Her freckles sound her face; compacted so tightly, breathing is hard. Her freckles are happy, happy to be on a human like her. Her freckles on her face are like little meatballs and her hair is the spaghetti. Her arms as well are filled with freckles; from big to small, they are beaming with happiness. Happy they are, her freckles, to fill her skin. Her legs, tall and skinny, each freckle shouting that they are better. Her freckles… her freckles… like spots a cow are her freckles.