A pen, teetering on the edge of the table; she was wobbly on solid ground. The stain reeked of stomach acid, the bottle of Resolve stood up like a cop at a crime scene.

“I didn’t do it officer” she whispered.

Last week, she woke up in strange place. The week before that was the bacterial infection. Three weeks back, she was crying in bed. The dominos toppled and she shivered.

Bits of soggy paper towel broke off against the rough carpet.

Warm water forced her sinuses empty.

Tangles were resolved by the brush.

She made a to-do list.

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