Clean
I’m busy again.
Dusting, organizing, mopping.
Everything is clean already.
We already swept up all her old food.
And mopped her muddy paw prints.
It’s clean, it’s clean enough!
They say.
We don’t get less sad.
The house just gets clean.
We remember her favorite treats.
We donated them.
I ignore their calls and texts.
I’m busy again.
And I don’t want to talk about her, anyway.
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