The Floormate

“No, but I told them I like men.”

“Oh,” I said. Next I turned my head . . . searching around. Afterward, I shoved a hand over my nostrils. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked the question, being rude and all, but I did. “What’s that terrible smell?”

The incense sticks were sending thin lines of smoke about the room.

He gestured to them and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well,” I said. “I need sleep.”

Curiously, I looked into his closet on my way out. We had no doors on our closets, but he’d placed a giant panel of particle board over the space. I grabbed the board and peered behind, at which point I saw four trash bags tied with twists. “Just curious,” I said, turning back toward my floormate. “If you’re not gay, why tell your parents you like men?”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)