[Kaimee]: 5.Contest Entries.Drabbl
Someone just brought me another barely touched bowl of soup, and placed it gently down on the glass top of the coffee table. There’s this way they place things, this way they tiptoe about and answer the door, hushed, and that too friendly caressing hand on the stranger’s arm. They’re making eye contact across the room, and supercilious stage-act grimaces in my direction, she forgot her lunch again… Tidying and tripping round, smug in that safe, joyful terror that makes them cling to grief and grieving. They’re ravenous for it, and here I can’t even remember to eat one meal.
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