she was always covered in filth. she never put on shoes when going into the garden for a cigarette, the mud was not noticed on her feet. the garden always lead to more sputtered words. and i knew the neighbors could hear us, so i kept my communication to gestures and disapproving facial expressions. birds coughed as though a desk was being dragged across a classroom floor. it reminded me of her speech pattern. i laughed, but she saw it as encouragement, so her words quickened as she reached for the ash tray. flecks of burned tobacco cascaded gently to the ground, but landed on her ugly bare foot. yellowing toenail fragments and four black hairs erupted from the big toe, but a shadow of others, just beneath the surface, was clearly visible.
i stood there, avoiding her cheerfulness about being in the shower with me, but all i could avert my eyes to were those four hairs. she moved under the water, and i quickly removed myself from her proximity, to the other end of the tub, but it was cold, so i pulled away the sticky curtain. she complained of the rush of cool air, but i knew she wanted me back inside. i would not give her what she wanted.
what i wanted was for her to clean up cat piss like a normal person. to remove the stench of it from the house completely. if i could just wipe her away..






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As soon as your born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time.
b
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I'll be the garden, you'll be the snake; all of my fruit is yours to take...
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