Thursday, December 17, 2009

She ate licorice. Three pieces even, shaped like minuature trouts with fat tails and scales.
There were no sheets again.
But the rain poured down constantly, and for almost 20 hours now the Thursday had been a puddle.
By force it had swept other things away.
And only now had it dragged others out!

She had managed to shut the window.
The neighbor was playing better music and

How she wanted to move out of the shoebox. The ceilings that never welcomed nails. Walls that repelled paper.
Carpet that sucked in all air, never letting it out.

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