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Paranoia

Perfect white circles of a repulsing mold formed on the thin hardened remain of milk at the bottom of a bowl that has been sitting in my sink since last Thursday. I was going to wash it out. I was going to stop its growth so that I could have a clean bowl to use for my next meal. So I held the bowl in my hands, about to spend four or five seconds contemplating which cleaning implement I should use, but that thought didn’t last long. No, it was interrupted. The white dots in the hardened yellow milk penetrated my head. Just for a moment, a long drawn out moment, I heard these words;

Are you scared of me growing? In your house. I’m growing, in your house. You can’t take it, can you? So clean me, kill me and all my babies, touch me. Touch me, George. Scrub me out and let me get on your skin a little. Try and scrub me off after, you can do it..YOU GONNA KILL ME NOW, GEORGE?

I put the bowl down gently but quickly, I turned my head, I walked away. I’ll just do this later...Yeah, yeah…I’ll just do it later…
I’LL KEEP GROWING GEORGE, I’LL BE HERE GROWING.
I hurried away from the kitchen at a quicker pace, goose bumps shot up my spine and I scurried away like a little mouse and slammed the door behind me. I looked back at the closed bedroom door. Stared...for about five seconds…confirming it was…closed. Then I walked away from it. I crouched down toward my stereo and pressed ON with a pretty unnecessarily violent force, nervous for the music to turn on. I’ll just…do some room cleaning...in here, instead… that didn’t…that didn’t happen.
GEOR-

IM JUST GOING TO CHILL OUT IN MY ROOM AND CLEAN A LITTLE.





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