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Sunken Dreamers' Almanac: Zero Percent Chance of Showers



In the half painted room L pushes pills into her pillowcase. Off her meds since the baby shower postponed itself indefinitely she's sick of not knowing the question when the answers are all around her: there is cutlery in the counter, orange vials that vow sympathy sleep, a loaded escape plan in the closet. As the sun slopes the lean shadows slay, slow dance across an unfinished wall. Clock clicks nervous teethchatter as L drowns a bassinet in the bathtub.

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