Monday, February 28, 2011
When you get back, there will still be soap suds in the sink. The oven will still smell like taquitos. The light bulbs will still be warm.
But I won't be here.
My perfume might still linger in the air. I might even leave a glass of water sitting on a desktop.
Goodbye bowl. Goodbye brush. Goodbye bowl, full of mush.
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