"i've been through withdrawals before, but never anything like this" she said while she plucked the limbs off of 7 different species of grasshoppers. labeling each joint with small scraps of paper.
as a dream analyst she knew what to expect. but kept the future hidden from him with a desperate hope of changing it. over 36.4 years her body had become a shrine to him. a tattoo from a weekend by the sea. a bite mark on her shoulder. the limp from their year in cameroon. sunken red eyes from years of tears. lines surrounding her mouth from all the laughter.
cleaning up the spilt coffee with old newspapers and winding the clock back a few more days. grasshopper wings buzzed and glass cracked. steam from the furnace filled the air and curled the edges of every photograph.
"3 1/2 weeks is good enough".
