She is angry sure with me.
By now she knows sure I’m here. When she’s looked in all the other places she always knows I’m here and this is where she looks next.
But I’m here anyway. Here is out of her wayest. Here is not under her feet, making her mad at me, always under her feet is what I am when I’m not here or in some other hiding place where she usually looks first, before she remembers here and then looks here and finds me.
I don’t have many hiding places for our apartment is so small and she knows them all by now. But sometimes she forgets to look here and then, after a while, she forgets me, too. Some of the time, not most of the time. Most of the time she finds me, even if I’m here.
It’s very quiet in here, and outside, too. I listen really hard to know when she moves so I can be ready for her when she comes. It’s best to be ready for her when she comes.
Something tickles my face. It’s a dress. It’s her long blue one, the one with the cocoa stain I think that’s tickling me. But I mustn’t move. I must be quieter than the quietest mouse and I mustn’t move. That would give me away, tell her sure I am here. Wake her up and make her come here and find me.
She’s not in her bed this time. She’s on the floor. Tired sure. Tired of me under her feet all the time. Exhausted, she told me once. That’s what I make her. It’s got something to do with wearing her out.
I have to pee, though. I really have to pee.
And now I’m too late sure to go to school. It’s the second day in a row now I’ve not gone to school. Mrs. Ferguson will wonder where I am and will call her so tired on the floor and wake her up sure, the phone rings so loud.
It hasn’t today, though, for it’s already rung two or three or four times, I don’t know I haven’t counted the times, though I know how to count, that’s one of the things I do the best is what she’s told Mom, Mrs. Ferguson. And now Mom’s on the floor outside the bathroom and I really have to pee though I can’t for she’s in the way and I’ll wake her up sure if I try to go. She can smell me, she says, when I come too near and that wakes her up, she’s told me that more than once, though I haven’t counted those times either.
Read alsoStrange Days
Morning, timid this far north, approached my window, where it hesitated, as if a little unsure what came next.Within, her brother and enemy lingered in many places though the sun had long since risen: on the windows and along the floor as frost, in the cold hash pipe as ash, in the lava lamp as yellow and red bubbly ghost still rising and falling…