Anomalistic Month

Anomalistic Month
Originally shared by G.K. Nelson
ARITHMETIC
She is in the closet, counting. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.
"Dammit," she says.
He looks up from the newspaper. "What?"
"Twenty-seven black dresses."
"Twenty-seven black dresses?! Who on earth needs twenty-seven black dresses?"
"I do. I need thirty-one."
"Thirty-one? For God's sake why?"
"For when you die," she says matter-of-factly.
"For when I die?"
"Yes. I'm going to wear one black dress every day for a month after you die. Then I'll pile them up in the front yard and douse them in charcoal starter and burn them."
He chuckles. "Then what?"
"Nothing but pink," she declares. "Pink, pink, pink. Pink to spit in the face of whatever took you from me. Pink to let you know, wherever you are, flitting around like a winged idiot with a harp or shoveling coal with a pitchfork, I'm coming to pester you. You can't get away from me that easily. Pink, pink, pink."
He sets the newspaper aside: "Come out of that closet. I have some counting games of my own I want to play."
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