What’s he doing in there?
What the hell is he doing in there?
The door is ajar and I can hear water rushing.
The drops are loud, like rain on my tin rooftop.
What’s he doing in there?
I smell something strong, maybe peppermint?
I poke my snout in and sniff. Yep, peppermint.
But what’s he doing in there?
I peer my head through the door.
He’s looking in the mirror.
I’ve never seen this before.
He’s holding a stick in his mouth.
White foam erupts from his lips.
He spits.
What’s he doing in there?
What the hell is he doing in there?
He moves the stick side to side.
He’s a savage with the strength of Alcide.
More white foam. He’s sick. I need to get out of this home.
What’s he doing in there? I’d like to know.
Nick Devin, 2017
