It’s a Charlie birthday weekend. He has his skunk on my knee. I am wearing a shirt I never wear. All of my favorite shirts are in the wash. The dog is tapping my thigh with his paw claws. All of my shirts have ink from leaky pens staining the bottom of their pockets.

The laundry takes 36 minutes. The alarm goes off and we ignore it.

‘We are the only ones in there.’

A half hour later and I remember it.

We move it to the dryer. The timer is for sixty minutes which takes a dollar twenty five. We set a timer in our apartment for forty five minutes.

Piper is flirting with me.

I know I made an alias, but Piper is better.

I will not make her the fool. I will make her a saint. Saint Piper. She likes Joan of Arc. I am Joan of Arc. From 5 to 8 or 8 to 2 or 5 to 12.

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