she sat on the kitchen floor, back to the refrigerator, and stared up at the avocado green wallpaper. it was peeling and torn and had the tracks of the past all over it. this was always where she ended up at her lowest; sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing so hard she was sure her lungs would jump out of her chest through her mouth.
as she tried to quietly sob into her hands that covered her mouth, she wondered if that wallpaper would ever come down. would it all ever come down? if it did, would it be a methodical dismantling of obsolescence or would it just one day fall with a rumble and bury her, choking her of breath and sending chalky, toxic dust into her eyes and nose as she lay obscured on the cold, tile floor?
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