TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
I find traces of himself everywhere in the house. Unfinished small bags of peanuts. Flecks of rolling tobacco. Half-used packets of gum. Stray lotto tickets. It's maddening, tidying after him. But if the house was always tidy and neat, I'd think something was weirdly missing in my life.