Sisterlock

Her face was green. Like an olive skin oxidating on the early morning sun. She screams as I was stared. Nothing is ever enough. How did I dare to…mess up my brain? I all made it up. She thinks. The rattling in my head is real. The white lights on the red stage are real. The occipital stane, in the third, right up corner in the coordinating system of my life is real. Still. How did I dare?… To wake up at 7 and exercise. Lift my legs. Squat. Launch. She does pilates. Like a thread in a needle.

How do I know I feel worse than her? Her face is now blue. Blue like a fried eggplant with shiitake-mushroom cheeks. How did I dare?

My life is worth 15 000$. And an airplane ticket. One direction. No more than that. And her hand around my neck. Teared pink shirt.

Every word pierces. Boils blood. She bends like a nimble serpent toward the elevator. Short in the middle. Wide in front. She steals the stealth wings. In a two-folded street.

My hair falls down in remembrance.

I call my father. Mutation is on her way.

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