Laundry at the Logan girls’ residence isn’t found in hampers.
It’s found on the floor, draped over chairs, putrefying in boxes and baskets… it’s anywhere my mom and I want to dump it.
And in my rocked-out state I was checking for laundry in places I’d never looked before.
Like on her closet floor, behind and between the big packing boxes that still serve as my mother’s dresser, and then under my mother’s bed.
It was there that I discovered one dusty sock and a whole library of books. Not just random books, either. Romance books.
At first all I could do was gawk at the covers. I’d seen these kinds of books at the grocery store,
but they were so obviously stupid and trashy that I wouldn’t be caught dead actually looking at one.
But now here I was with a whole library of trash in front of me and no worries that someone might spot me.
So as strains of “Angel” began playing, I looked! I checked out all the covers, then started reading the blurbs on the backs.
Aerosmith eventually quit playing, but I didn’t even notice. I was skimming pages, laughing at the ridiculous, flowery prose,
my jaw literally dropping as I read (in great detail) how one book’s chisel-chested man and his luscious lady “joined souls in sublime adoration.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d found. Couldn’t believe my mother!
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색