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“My bed to the right, where it has always been. Her bed, in another room. I did not know what to do with that empty corner where her bed should have gone. It looked foreign, the exposed strip of carpet. It looked wrong, that empty coldness squatting in the corner, laughing and pointing a clawed finger at me.” — Max Watson
My bed to the right, where it has always been. Her bed, in another room. I did not know what to do with that empty corner where her bed should have gone. It looked foreign, the exposed strip of carpet. It looked wrong, that empty coldness squatting in the corner, laughing and pointing a clawed finger at me.