April Fool

My world, fast, brightly colored, poorly tacked together from scraps of things that used to be--the curve of a hip, a back, warmth between me and the open air--a bandage keeping out the dirt, letting me heal.  I brushed my hair and sat numb at the keyboard and ate peanut butter and watched the minutes go by before the sanctity of my room was interrupted by refluxing complexes of SnI4 and spring time madrigals and mathematics.

I didn't go to class.

Sarah is going to murder me.