My steering wheel is sticky. It has honey on it. And pear. And chocolate. And tears. It has sun screen. And lip balm. And 97 octane super unleaded. It has orange peel. And ink. And a little caramel.
My steering wheel is sticky. But I'm used to it now.
Monday
[empty]
My cheeks became so rosy. My lips, too, they were a new red. I saw it in the early mornings when I would wake to the unwelcome truths of the day. My body full of promise. All our plans had come true. Even this one. And then I lay down there on that strange bench. I reached out for Doctor Suphatra's arm, but she barely noticed. When I woke up it was dead, and I wondered what else had died with it.
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