I make a note to clean it up tomorrow before heading to the stairs. I freeze halfway there, wondering if she's still mad at me. In case she is, I head back down and curl up on the couch.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
“Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number.
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you—
Ye are many—they are few.” — Mary Shelly