What I remember most about Yvette is her bed vast like a football field. It filled a room which otherwise lacked furnishings. Dark and always shuttered against the day like the haunt of a vampire, the room was surprisingly sterile. It held nothing but that endless bed that swallowed us when we tumbled into it….
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2 responses to “Yvette’s Bed”
Sad, yet so Argentine-life-like, if you allow me the ´ungrammaticality´
That was beautiful, and so moving. Thank you.