The Contract


Late at night when the stories had been read, and towels hung damp and limp upon the hooks or in puddles on the floor, she’d turn her thoughts over in her head like old lumps of dough and try to remember what had happened, to who she was before. The mirror now reflected someone she didn’t recognize, size 10 thighs, droopy breasts and question marks for eyes. There were zombies who looked better than this.

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