She wades in her black sheets the way someone would look if they were stranded from a wreckage. She survives with glistening skin and an octopus tangled in her hair. It’s no miracle. She’s eaten raw meat maybe even gnawed at her own flesh. But she raises her arms overhead to be saved the way she did when she let got stuck under those floats as a child. The experiment was a flop. A flop like no other but she still admires a drowning Willy Wonka persona. Little men could sing to her in her dreams. That Abby, we’re a lot more alike than I care to admit. The black sheet tangles around her left ankle which causes her to stir awake. The apartment is quiet. A leaf drifts to the ground outside her window. She reaches to the heavens for one of those stretches that make your body shake and collapses back into the wreckage.
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