Four: Fog

I dropped the bags to the ground and they popped open; snapdragon mouths
throwing up morsels of sadness as I stood, tepid and empty. I heard a mouse-like
crack spring somewhere down below, muffled by the fat I can’t lose and the
walls I can’t bring down. My feet took root, my stare was still and my blunt lips
would not part. The crack spread like a vein until there were a tapestry of
flaws spawning their way inside me.  I trembled for a moment, just a moment, before I
crashed  down into a thousand pieces all over my kitchen floor, and I remember thinking,
‘I hope I didn’t crush the eggs’ which is funny because I didn’t even buy any.

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Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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