but can't remember where she put anything, because after James left it was sort of a red, embarrassed blur, spreading over the room like a blush.
Ruth dreams uncomfortably in the reclined seat of her car. Harry is there, but he is shrunken and his nose sticks out too far from his face, culminating in a bright red bulb. She reaches out her hand to try to pick the cherry and he begins to cry lemons, asking,
“Why, Ruthie-doo? Please take me back? Pwease, baby-cakes, pwease?” She shudders at his coddling and turns her head to watch the mobile hanging above her crib instead. It spins and on it hangs six old, crumbling tires. They're all cracking and popping and laughing, and at the top of the mobile it says “give up, don't speak that way, take me back, i'm good for you, you're ignorant”. She can't bear to watch the tires hack up their lungs and so she looks back at Harry, but there are orange worms and maggots crawling out of the flesh of his cheeks. They eat holes in his face and squirm about in the air, trying to find something to grab on to. He has a beard of worms. One worm crawls out of James' nose and asks,
“What are you doing? There are cakes to be baked back home, Ruthie-doo. Pack up and run back and sneak up the stairs and crawl back into bed. Don't forget antiseptic, Ruthie-doo.” The worm fades into a long, brown frown and the tires tumble down onto Ruth's face, stone still.
They eat holes in his face and squirm about in the air, trying to find something to grab on to. He has a beard of worms. One worm crawls out of James' nose and asks,
She hears a pipe shift somewhere upstairs. There must be a bathroom. Ruth realizes she doesn't know yet.
and I heard the soup and...
The earthy smell of the stew is making filling the room and making it difficult to push more conversation into the air, so James stops.
“Pieces of Immortality: 786” it reads. Ruth reads it every time it scrolls past on the screen. She stands there for ten minutes, reading, not daring step on the keys and look at the desktop.
The earthy smell of the stew is making is filling the room and making it difficult to push more conversation into the air, so James stops.
but can't remember where she put anything, because after James left it was sort of a red, embarrassed blur, spreading over the room like a blush.
“I've had enough. I've so had enough,” she hisses to herself as she stumbles down the stairs. Then she freezes. She hears a creak-pop at the bottom step of the stair. It bounces its face against the lip of the first step, then leans its saggy Kleenex side against the first railing. It pushes itself up. It limps toward her, an asymmetrical rhythm of thumps on the carpeted stairs. It stops on the step below her.
“I'm going out,” she says to the tire. “I'm going out and I'll be back tomorrow morning.” As she steps past the tire and runs out the door without thinking of putting her shoes back on, she can hear it creak-pop-laughing.
Ruth dreams uncomfortably in the reclined seat of her car. Harry is there, but he is shrunken and his nose sticks out too far from his face, culminating in a bright red bulb. She reaches out her hand to try to pick the cherry and he begins to cry lemons, asking,
“Why, Ruthie-doo? Please take me back? Pwease, baby-cakes, pwease?” She shudders at his coddling and turns her head to watch the mobile hanging above her crib instead. It spins and on it hangs six old, crumbling tires. They're all cracking and popping and laughing, and at the top of the mobile it says “give up, don't speak that way, take me back, i'm good for you, you're ignorant”. She can't bear to watch the tires hack up their lungs and so she looks back at Harry, but there are orange worms and maggots crawling out of the flesh of his cheeks. They eat holes in his face and squirm about in the air, trying to find something to grab on to. He has a beard of worms. One worm crawls out of James' nose and asks,
“What are you doing? There are cakes to be baked back home, Ruthie-doo. Pack up and run back and sneak up the stairs and crawl back into bed. Don't forget antiseptic, Ruthie-doo.” The worm fades into a long, brown frown and the tires tumble down onto Ruth's face, stone still.
Ruth walks up the sidewalk to the front door ……………………………………
looks at the computer monitor. The screen saver is on: red scrolling text moving over a black background.
“I've had enough. I've so had enough,” she hisses to herself as she stumbles down the stairs.
As she steps past the tire and runs out the door without thinking of putting her shoes back on, she can hear it creak-pop-laughing.
and I was worried you might have run away again,
“Well, yeah, sure. That's fine. No big deal. Just let me know if you want to come with us tomorrow or some other time, okay? You're welcome to help, and we could use you. Chief won't ask you. He's too proud. But I ain't.”
Harry is there, but he is shrunken and his nose sticks out too far from his face, culminating in a bright red bulb.
“What are you doing? There are cakes to be baked back home, Ruthie-doo. Pack up and run back and sneak up the stairs and crawl back into bed. Don't forget antiseptic, Ruthie-doo.”
It bounces its face against the lip of the first step
She feels stupid for leaving her shoes, but she has #FF0000 ">nowhere to go, so she doesn't worry about it too much.
Now, I know the feeling of being kicked out, of having #FF0000 ">nowhere to go, and I took to my truck just like you did when that happened, but you got a home here.
The earthy smell of the stew #FF0000 ">wasis makingfilling the room#FF0000 ">,andmaking it difficult to push more conversation into the air, so James stops.