The Blanket Thief

I found a blanket on the curb of an overpass and decided to take a nap in it. A homeless woman kicked me awake and told me it was my fault she was cold last night. A butterfly landed on my nose and I swatted at it out of reflex, making a tiny gash in my face. I grabbed my camera off the grass and ran off into the bushes with it. “I have nothing except that blanket, and even that you take from me,” she said. “Technically, you’re taking from yourself all the time, each muscle in your body takes nutrients from your blood,” I said. The purple butterflies were really starting to piss me off. I ran sideways up a tree and they all flew off at once. “I can see your breath,” she said. “Go over there on that lamppost and hang from it,” I said. “I’m not sure if it can hold my weight,” she said. “Well there’s no way you’re going to know until you try it,” I said. She shimmied up it, and out along its arm to the tip. The lamppost uprooted out of the ground, and she fell. I scampered down the tree and ran over to her. “Are you dead?” I said. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m dead,” she said. “How do you know?” I said. “Because I’m having difficulty with basic functions,” she said. “Like what?” I said. “Like, I can’t move any part of my body,” she said. “You’re still talking aren’t you?” I said.” “Yeah I guess I am,” she said. “That’s a good sign,” I said.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s