It was the strangest dream – me and Bastion were living in Philadelphia in this tiny one room tenement, something small and dirty like when we first married. He had brought the dog in from a walk, but Chelsea had some shit stuck to her that Bastion hadn’t cleaned off and she had dragged her ass all over the carpet. I was angry at Bastion because he hadn’t paid enough attention, he was angry at the dog, and everybody was screaming, including the dog who was barking at the moon (despite it being mid-day).
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Bastion yelled, and I knew he meant that the mistake was made, so why was I yelling.
It struck me as a stupid question, though, and I snapped back, “Clean it up!”
“Fine!” he screamed, walking over to the carpet. I just boggled at him as he got down on his knees and began scraping at the streaks of shit with his hands.
I felt myself stepping around him, mind bending in that space, as if keeping my distance could prevent whatever had gotten into him from taking hold. “Bastion,” I asked, feeling rash, “what are you doing?”
He raised himself up on his knees, hands covered in shit, and spat back, “Oh, is this not good enough for you? Here!” He bent back down and began to lick the carpet, burying his face in the streaks of shit until it covered his cheeks.
Alarmed, I could only think of the most useless thing to say, “Bastion! Stop!”
His hand shot out then and snagged my arm about the wrist, pulling me down. On my knees in front of him, he grabbed me by the back of the head and forced me in for a kiss. Despite the smell he was grinding into my hair and the brown stains on his cheeks, I didn’t resist. The dog howled.
It was the strangest thing. I’ve never even been to Philadelphia.
See the author’s published work here.
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