Vacuum

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She heard the laptop fall. Her eyes were still closed.

She heard the phone call. Under sheets, she was still covered.

 

Her eyes stung with anger. Sadness. Confusion.

Why God? I don’t understand.

Tears kept on streaming. Her heart was screaming.

She washed her face, grabbed the detergent.

 

Pushed around furniture, as though they were blocks of worry.

Dusted shelves, wiped things clean.

Rubbing her hardest, hoping to get all the pain out.

 

Pulled out her vacuum, for the floors and pillows.

She maxed the suction, its pull soothing her.

It was something she could control, in a world she could not, amidst feelings she did not know.

 

Dirt accumulated in its intricate machinery.

But she didn’t know how to get rid of it.

 

She put the vacuum away, deep into her closet.

Hidden behind a line of hanging clothes.

Like a curtain of numbness hiding an abyss of fear.

 

But her apartment was small, and it was a transparent vacuum.

She shoved it further away.

Wanting its grey dirt, that reminded her of ashes of Death, out of sight.

“I don’t want to see it from the Living room”, she reasoned. “I want it to go away”.

 

Sinking into her bath tub, after a long day’s work.

Reality struck.

Cleaning was done, but nothing was cleansed.

Tears came streaming, again.

 

Dear God – Please heal, comfort, & protect those I love.

 

It was time for bed. And then she received a text.

Tears streamed down to her pillow, again.

 

Dear God – I’m scared shitless. Please let us keep her. I want her. Please make heaven wait for its angels.

 

She texted simply, if I could do something for her.

It was as though she didn’t realize, if had to, I’d rip my liver out to replace hers.

 

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