My TBR is tottering over me. She has claws, and stern eyebrows, drawn tightly towards each other.
Some would call it a monobrow.
She wears tweed, and always looks so very cross.
Brown clothes, brown hair, whisked back into a knot.
Oh the tightest knot you ever saw.
My TBR is tall.
So tall that her shadow looms over my shoulder whenever I deign to do something she doesn’t approve of. Which, come to think of it, is EVERYTHING.
I wonder what makes her so mean?