I toss the har­mon­ica on the floor and go to the fridge. I pull out a bot­tle of wine that has been corked not with a cork but with a baby car­rot. I yank the baby car­rot from the bot­tle and take a painful swig of the wine.

“Piss berries,” I say, my face all scrunched up.

I fin­ish the wine and the car­rot and wan­der around the apart­ment. It is a nicely dec­o­rated lit­tle flat, two bed­rooms and clean. There are some French paint­ings on the walls, a few Ikea chairs and a nice lit­tle Celtic sculp­ture of nude men hand in hand. The apart­ment smells like old can­dles and cat lit­ter and berries. I enter my friends room and col­ors fill my eyes.

Her room has been dec­o­rated like a rain­bow lit by a cam­era flash. Col­ored silks hang from the bed and each shag thread on her shag car­pet is a different, vibrant color. I clutch my chest as I walk through her room.

“Oh God! It’s you God!” I say and I do a lit­tle spin.

The room is beau­ti­ful and it smells just like a girl's room should. There is a lit­tle make-up dresser with all sorts of creams and con­ceal­ers and pow­ders in one cor­ner of the room. I sit at the table and I look at myself in the mirror.

I have lost weight and my hair is too long.

I pick up a brush and comb my hair to the side. I find a cap­sule of blush and brush it onto my cheeks. I spray my hair with lily scented hair spray. I apply some eye­liner and lip glis­tener. I’m actu­ally not that bad look­ing in such a getup.

When I’m done I open a drawer next to me. It is the thong drawer. Just like every­thing else, my friend’s thongs are rain­bow col­ored. I pick up a tan­ger­ine col­ored lace thong and spin it around on my fin­ger. When I go to put it back I notice some­thing that had been sit­ting under­neath. It is a small orange box.

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