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You slid a finger down the inside of your left arm in imitation of a knife blade. Nurses passed by back and forth busy making beds in the locked ward. I sat on the sofa looking at you standing there. Your slim finger left a feint line of pinkness. The Scottish woman stood by the doorway smoking and moaning about the Indian woman who she said stunk tha place ta hell. Music from the radio pushed out pop or DJ crap. You walked past the Scottish moaner into the other part of the ward. I watched you walk away how the short dressing gown held you close. You beckoned me to follow with a curved finger. I stood up and walked past the Scottish woman. Cannae ya smell tha stinking betch? She said. I said no although I had but not wanting to say. She moaned on but I walked away.
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
Locked Ward Morning 1971
You slid a finger down the inside of your left arm in imitation of a knife blade. Nurses passed by back and forth busy making beds in the locked ward. I sat on the sofa looking at you standing there. Your slim finger left a feint line of pinkness. The Scottish woman stood by the doorway smoking and moaning about the Indian woman who she said stunk tha place ta hell. Music from the radio pushed out pop or DJ crap. You walked past the Scottish moaner into the other part of the ward. I watched you walk away how the short dressing gown held you close. You beckoned me to follow with a curved finger. I stood up and walked past the Scottish woman. Cannae ya smell tha stinking betch? She said. I said no although I had but not wanting to say. She moaned on but I walked away.
TerryCollett
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
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