#1

she started laughing, slowly nimbly she stood up from the floor where she fell with a thud a while ago. she usually laughed at hurt—covered her physical and emotional agony like a melodramaqueen. but it was okay, right? she could take it.
she had long straight hair, she was dark and slender—attracted unquestionable attention. but somehow her essence as enormous it seemed was actually not worth a grain. we’ll not go into details. I don’t know how to. her character is dying inside my head.



let’s not talk of she.


I see Madelyn now. she is petite. she has the most unnoticeable face, broken nose-cartilage. she is bulky a bit more lipid and bags and pouches will make her podgy. but it’s okay, right? she can take it.
she tried to paint the ocean and she trembled every other second when she got too caught up into her painting. but it was in the morning, you have to know, cold mornings give her shiver that confuses your heart and all the gravity, force, pressure and density twirl inside your stomach.
Madelyn had round eyes. she lied in silence. she wanted to deny a lot of her humiliating truth to her husband, but she couldn’t. she just planned. she dreamed. and slowly she conceived the infant of all fears—paranoia—the seed and the mother of her moans.
now, just now she trembled. God, weird Madelyn. who wants to hear of her?
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