He’s talking about big life decisions, but all I can concentrate on is his cigarette and how much I want a drag.
It’s the first hot day of the season, and the insects have arrived. Spiders with pale green abdomens that I crush, messily, like grapes. Other insects scuttle along the webs already strung across the room; in particular, a big thick centipede—black, leggy, and maddeningly quick—that burrows deep into my drawer of kitchen towels.
A dog was trapped in the back room under the stairs for God knows how long. I’d heard growling every time I went near the stairs, but ignored it.
A treasure hunt for small trinkets that the different sets of parents hold—have been holding, for many years. Now it is time to reshuffle. They might be taking a stand and coming home.
Someone breaks into the basement of my shared house and sets fire to it. I am left with nothing but my purse and an Archie comic.
He dumps me, for a girl who’s been getting plastic surgery to make herself look like a unicorn.
Men dressed in Asian drag. They carry sheets of glass as currency.
The agreement is that evenings belong to them. I won’t know which one it will be on any given night, but I must be ready for him nonetheless.
A massive, round ship settles in the sky above the house. We try to ignore it at first, but eventually we realize it isn’t going anywhere.
She asks me if I’d like to mark all the places on the kitchen table where I’ve killed houseflies.