She lay in her bedroom, an escape from the fumigation chamber she had turned the rest of her flat into. She had, no doubt, been attempting to douse her soul with the chemicals necessary to berid it of the vermin past. But no degree of carcinogen could create the exocytosis necessary to feel right. She lay in her bedroom and failed to find a single permutation of pillows and blankets to make it feel as if she wasn’t alone at that moment…Of course, morning would come, just as it always did, and the day would join her as her only sound-minded companion…
