Once upon a time I remember learning that sand dollars are real animals. Who knew?
They line up like goddamn paper plates, standing up on their sides to feed. I guess on dirt. As soon as someone comes
I flatten myself to the wall and hope desperately he doesn't see me. There's no way anyone could know. Could they? Is it possible? I can't even think about it. I can't even think. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I hate myself, I hate him, I hate God, if there is a God. If there is, he's an asshole.
I'm being melodramatic. This is stupid. I'm stupid. The rain is pouring, no rainbow in sight. Not for me, not for a long time.
"Come on in out of the rain. What are you doing against that wall, you idiot?"
"Keeping dry, I suppose."
Sand dollars get something yellow on your hand when you take them out of the water. I learned all this on a vacation to Florida when I was little. Back when I was healthy, before everything. Before everyone. Some people say it's pee, but I don't think