“No I’m glad you did.” By Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday, April 6, 2016
11:31pm
5 minutes
From a text

There’s a pile of laundry on the table and no one’s sure why
No one moves it because no one’s sure if it’s safe to touch
Toast crumbs and pizza crust bits and a smear of ranch dressing
The pile of laundry is an unintentional cotton centrepiece
Yellow and green and white and black

After awhile
At least twenty one days
It almost looks beautiful
A few drops of candle wax
A stain of wine and tea and balsamic vinegar

“Whose stuff is that?” You finally ask
After being out late and eating too much ramen and spicy chocolate
“No idea…” I say, drinking down a mouthful of too hot tea
“Why haven’t you moved it?” You say laying down on the blue concrete of the kitchen floor
“Why haven’t you?”

Then it’s a different story
A protest
A digging of the heels into mushy ground
Then it’s a commitment
A too-tight ring around a too-fleshy finger

Seven years later
The pile of clothes covered in dust
You’ve been gone since last Winter
And everytime time I see it I hate you and I love you
At the same time

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“No I’m glad you did.” By Sasha at her kitchen table