May 6, 2008
solitary bees, 43
She sits, arms folded, looking out the window.
I want steak. I want candles. I want flowers.
She never looks at him.
I’ll get them for you.
A thousand other things you fucking asshole.
She scrunches her fists in the blanket. Screams.
You fucking mother fucking dimwitted fucking simpleton piece of shit.
She crosses her arms and looks out the window.
I wish I had access to your brain.
You do.
He backs out of the room.
As he walks down the stairs he can hear her scream.
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