I’ll sleep tomorrow, or the next day, maybe. Give me a call when the time’s done ticking- ring me up when our food is done. I’m clawing away at whatever’s left, the edges of the wallpaper stay stuck to the paste I dared stick my hand in- I’m stuck here too. Somewhere in between the foundation and the decoration is me, somewhere else, glued, layers weighing me down. I’m lying awake, with a headache, laughing, because there’s nothing else to do.