Maybe a small and very precise elephant, a girl elephant, who can use the ever so slightly protruding second digit of her round right foot to apply dainty but massive pressure to something small, about the circumference of a dime. No, not a dime, it’s exactly the size of an eraser.

Elephant. Okay. I’ve gone too far. I do that. He makes this hand gesture when I go too far, he holds his thumb and index finger an inch or so apart. “You’ve gone this much too far, ” it means.

Lola, that’s what I’ll call the elephant, it seems she’s pressing her toe against my chest. It’s been there for a week. Okay, this doesn’t make sense, I’ll start again.

There was this spot on my skin. On my breast. Above my heart. And this got me wondering, is it possible the deep thoughts I have that I shouldn’t have, can they physically manifest? Did a spot coalesce on the skin above my heart because I’ve thought things I don’t dare confess?

The elephant Lola seems to think so. She started by pointing an accusing, but blunt digit at my heart.

I went to the doctor. I never go to the doctor, but Lola, she pointed and I was afraid. I’ve never had thoughts like this before, never had a spot like this. Elephants, do they get dangerous spots? Do they have thoughts, unconfessed thoughts, that they shouldn’t have?

50/50, my doctor said. He whipped me back, stuck me with a needle, and whisked away the tiny elephant toe print in seconds. “You’ll hear from us in a week,” he said as he rushed out to keep the door from hitting him in the ass.

I’ve been waiting and Lola has been pressing her toe into my heart.