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Grotesque Girl, Rotten RomanceWhy do things begin with I or You ? Why not Us ?
Did you forget me ? I live next door, it wouldn't hurt to say hi once in a while. I've herad your voice, it sounds amazing. I bet you sing. Not to her, of course not. She's just a friend right ? She's very pretty. I like walks on the beach too. Oh wait you didn't say that ? Oh, sorry, I must have heard from someone else. Well see you tomorrow.
I heard you two, you can get quite noisy sometimes you know. What ? I wasn't doing anything ! That smoke was probably from my casserole, sorry ! No it wasn't paper ! There's nothing on the wall ! Why are you asking all these questions ? I must admit, I like a man who shows interest in women's lives. Yeah, that banging on the wall was just me hanging up some picture frames. Sorry again. Aw thanks, you're so forgiving. Hope you two had fun. Okay bye.
What's wrong ? Oh My God ?! When did this happen ? With her arms and legs cut off ? that's very strange. Oh I'm sorry fo- Are those for me ? Oh, they're
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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