A storm in the valley washed me in warm, greasy rain during the late morning. I'm drowsy from tardiness and impromptu euphoria. Last night I rinsed a handful of mermaid scales with acetone breath. I brushed my hands free of dust and let them fall into tomorrow. I inspected them under the halogen light late the following evening. They are more than mother-of-toilet-seat tokens. Each one holds a tiny secret I can ferret out if I crack them open against my own bruised ribs.
11:38 p.m. - 2016-01-19
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