Eye

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I am looking at the eye

At the space where the eye is meant to be.

It is blank. Dead.

Like an abandoned place.

Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t wink at me

Like it used to do.

No flashing-green come-on.

Nothing.

It has been swallowed by a black hole

Of indifference.

It isn’t as though we just met.

Why doesn’t she text, or phone?

 

Shelby was Disgusted

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Shelby was disgusted.

She would sleep that night in the refrigerator.

She admired its stern solidity.

At least the mice couldn’t get to her.

And if she felt like a midnight snack, she wouldn’t have far to go.

She hopped in.

It wasn’t long before her teeth began chattering. That would keep her awake. Give her away if he was still in the house.

So she bit down on a leg of lamb.

That seemed to work.

She drifted off dreaming of sheep in thick woolen jumpers serially hurdling fences.