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unfinished no.5Snow flakes started to fall again like the tiny blossoms on an autumns day. The cool gentle puffing of air and the giggling sound of the children. Everything thats keeping this season alive, I so hate them.
Snow ball fight?
Oh cmon, would you cut it out? Im never gonna get out of this place. Never.
Look, everythings not what it seems. This season would be way better than last years. But if thats what you want, then I guess Ill just have to deal with that.
So does that mean youre gonna leave the room now?
Cmon Leila, cheer up! Oh, how about cupcakes? Ive baked some cupcakes. And well wait for you downstairs, ok?
And after a long second, Sister Sheilas gone. The door was closed but the fading sound of her footsteps was still heard all throughout the hallway. Little by little until the room was filled again with silence.
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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