23 Feb 2015
There sits a house shrouded by trees. The eyes occasionally open, dim and close from morning to evening. Inside, the furniture changes its course by day.
Dishes strewn from room to room, a dishwasher always full. A robed father sits in his chair, sometimes gauntly leaning over a computer. No one dares touch him because he is sick and if they must, gloves are worn. Anything he touches must be thoroughly cleaned and each one’s hands washed with soap and hot water. A mother, once well, now coughs through her son’s illness. Mother and son, medical masks they now wear. The son, ill for nine weeks with many ailments. Now, with paranoid acts, fears getting sick again for it seems to be that he is almost well. Therefore, three sickly beings ghostly glide by each other keeping several feet apart and isolating themselves in separate rooms as much as possible so that no germ may pass between.