Before my mom wakes the house is bigger and quieter than anything in life.

I still know where to walk on the stairs so they don't make their screaming creaks.

All of my mom's toilets are strong flushers; you lay the heaviest, fucked up log of a turd in any of them-they goin' DOWN!

She asks, "who's showering?" and then tells us she's going to hide all of her white towels. I think she's joking until I see them all...stacked in a pristine tower, on the empty side of her bed.

The cut on my face has scabbed. It's the thinnest brown line.

I am going to wash my hair now. My towel is blue.