I leave the office, pad through the old house in my socks, admiring old wood molding and paneling. I see her clearly through the kitchen window, a slender woman with dark blonde hair. Then I bit into the cookie. I throw it high, making him run to get under it. I slammed the balcony door, stripped to my boxers and left the clothes on the floor. I wave and offer a smile. The shoes were damp. I went to the bathroom, turned on the tap water, and popped the lid off the pill bottle.
I catch the look of my arms then, firm and muscular. I am not dreaming. I spend the morning at my desk, drinking green tea and writing. Then I huddled upon my couch. I see her clearly through the kitchen window, a slender woman with dark blonde hair. Inside my apartment, I dropped the shoes next to my front door. Then I knelt down. The red-and-black material had faded. It was not movement, but the realization that something had changed. Cookies are everywhere; plates of them cover the counters and the kitchen table. Each arm was a tangle of deep red lines edged with white infection. The inside of my mouth began burning. He hurls it back, laughing, pleased with himself. Her hair smells clean as the first day of summer. My mind seizes this realization, this time with dread. I clicked on the first — fishing tips. I pass my red Mustang, still sitting on the shoulder, emanating that thick, burnt oil smell. A picture of me and the girl lays on the nightstand. I closed my eyes. I stand up too fast, lose my balance and crash to the ground. My skin went cold. Still, I trembled myself to sleep. A glow of house lights shines through the trees and, when I find a driveway, I head toward the light. I live — happy. My chest expands; my lungs feel plump and full of oxygen. I leave the office, pad through the old house in my socks, admiring old wood molding and paneling. When Larry shut up I nodded.
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