My eyelids sort of dance on the balls. They are heavy like trunks. I yawn, scribble, remember a piece from an earlier dream. Force them open.
I was cleaning my ear, thought it was my teeth but it was my ear. I remember that. Like a camera panned out to show the true view and it wasn’t your gums you were scraping but your ears, with a q-tip and something sharper, scraping resin. Little pinches of black on pink. I was removing the rotten parts.
I hear cars pull up and I throw the covers off, jump up for motivation and even though I am swaying, rocking gently, surely I will fall, I stand.
“Come on, Genevieve.”
She stretches behind me, arching her back, shaking off sleep. My body is undulating without effort, shuddering like a caught deer. I have been asleep for fourteen hours. Who will I look in the eye and  how? The gravel, the pause, the engine shutting.
“Let’s go get help.”
My body needs stretching, pacing but I am being carried by two loaded trunks with the lid propped open. Let’s see. I waddle down the stairs, gripping the railing for balance as she races before me. I feel like I could sit on the stairs and a waterfall would help me slide the rest of the way. Light, not like a feather but light like nothing at all. Like I’m not even here. It is time to eat.

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