Hey!! What's the story?
The walls are no longer the colour we chose together when such things seemed important. The rectangle above the fireplace tells me so. I’ll ask him to paint the room a darker shade if such things ever seem important again. And shutting the door no longer brings safety, but shuts in the foul secret, forcing us to claim it for our own. I don’t want to accept the gap-toothed sideboard or the hopscotch of broken glass. I want to sit on the sofa and watch television against jasmine-white walls while he talks about his plans for winter.
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