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By Stephanie Ervin

I woke from my content cat-covered sleep
to hear my boyfriend stomping around our
one bedroom apartment, angry, hungry
for a fight. I groaned, still in a sick
haze and stuffy, now hungry for nothing.
I pulled on clothes and got my own sharp
jabs in, then left with a quick goodbye. I
drove down the car-studded highway to my
parents’ quiet house. In the silence I ate
four deviled eggs, which tasted like nothing.

 

Doughnut Touch Me! by Bank-Heavy Press

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