The basement floods slow

sump pump regurgitating snow melt with a 

traitor's throat while we

close our eyes and fast forward

to everything ruined. I'll be bedless for the next

week while we reconstruct the molded rooms,

scrub them out with bleach water and hope nothing

found its way into the walls. You can smell it

in the air, though. Some things are

created to stick.

Sorry everything's always getting ruined like this.