This is a slight improv of “The Pain of Pink Evenings”.
She came to me in a dream. . . her feet shuffled from side to side in her ruffled socks and patent leather shoes. I always hated those shoes. The way a crust of red clay clung to the sides, stubborn and unmoving even after continuous scrubbing.
“Why are you still here?” she squeaked looking to the paper strewn office.
My eyes drifted across the room to the various balls of printing paper, traces of black and red ink showing on each one. She perched on the desk her legs swinging back and forth, her eyes darting everywhere but to my face.
“I thought you left.” My eyes lingering on the barely white teddy bear in her arms, the fur stained with black and blue ink.
“I belong here. You don’t.”
“I can stay here as long as I want.”
“Can you?”
My eyes drifted once more to the papers on the floor, before I stood and stretched. All of my joints popped at once. She hopped off the desk and began jumping up and down furiously.
“You’re finally leaving!”
I brushed past her, picking up various pieces of paper as I strolled to the door. Her hand on my back propelled me through the door, blocking me off forever. I awoke, the blinking white bull staring at me from my computer screen.
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