Like snow from a roof. And a big slice of it fell into my lunch, which was supposed to be spaghetti. But will not now be. It’s like I’m being told to lay off the pasta by the house itself. It happens in the kitchen when I boil water, and in the living room where we had the leak from the upstairs bathroom.
I have a spray can of the stuff, but I’m afraid to use it. When it falls into liquid, it becomes opaque, and indistinguishable from the stuff on your plate. So you can’t take chances. You have to discard it. Maybe I’ll go grab a banana.
If only I could show you what loneliness was, if only I could show you what loneliness does.