(F.F.F. Website Story)
There is a tiny black dot on my bright white new sofa. I try not to care but I know it is there. I pick then I rub then I scrub. So, there is now a dark mark on my bright white new sofa. My life was complete, monochromatic and neat; now that smudge won’t budge and I feel I may weep. I spray and I scrub and suddenly see those grey fibres come away and I wish I could flee – a hole, like the one through my heart. Now I sit upon a tartan shroud, my soul torn apart.