Sunday Stories: “Memoryfoam”

Memoryfoam by Nicholas Bredie I think I was against the memoryfoam from the start. The vaguely chemical smell. It was a smell I associated with my mother in black, drunk and surrounded by people. I know she is drunk because when I first got drunk I understood my mother as having been drunk at this moment she was wearing black. I try to place this association, asking my husband if he can help me place it. He shrugs a little, […]

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