The queen sized bottom sheet had a tear in it…blue threads dangled at the bottom of the bed…as nights went on the hole got bigger and bigger til it ran up to the middle…the heart of the bed which was damaged from the weight of two bodies there at one time…now only one lay there at night…creating a dip…he could feel springs coming up into his sides…always had…just a little when the couple first moved-into the rented sleeping room on Broadway down by the liquor store and Danny’s Bar and Grill…it was home for two lovers for the time being…kept ’em off the streets…

And the blanket had holes in it too…a quilt made by his great aunt who lived down in Texas long long time ago…the family was from Dallas and migrated north to the Midwest taking job after job to make ends meet…seemed like they just barely made enough to survive…like father like son…

So…he took some silver Duck tape and stretched it across the sheet and the cover…for some reason he couldn’t just go to the thrift store and buy more…he wanted to keep ’em…she laid on this bed…these holes were created by them…kinda like their children or somethin’…she’d left him with holes…

One night he had a dream ’bout her…she was there in the room with him…watching him sleep…like a spirit or a spook…but she was comforting…kissing him on the forehead as he lay there…the blonde haired banshee stroked his forehead and whispered…, I’m sorry honey…sorry…,then she magically ran her right hand over the bed…she kissed his lips and took off into the night…

He woke up startled…the holes were gone…

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The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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