January 12, 2015

“I looked beneath the door. I looked beneath and saw the floor. I looked beneath and beyond the floor was more floor. I looked beneath and beyond that floor beyond the floor, there was more floor. I looked beneath and beyond the floor beyond the floor beyond the floor, there was the bottom of my bed. I looked beneath and beyond the bottom of my bed beyond the floor beyond the floor beyond the floor, there was darkness. Whether the darkness was the dried slick of my vomit, I couldn’t tell. It was flat black. It was oily in parts. It was painted on the planks. It seemed like if I eased the edges up with my fingernails, prying ever so gently, I could peel the black up.”

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