Out There

by Kate Folk

After a few days I could no longer deny that the towel was bulging up in the middle. So I peeled it back and there was like. The top of a head. With straight brown hair. It was cresting, you know, like when they talk about the baby’s head poking out. Out of the woman. It was the same thing, but you know. My floor.

she’d always hated how the only certain way to evade a man’s overtures was to reference one’s possession by a different man.

Oooooh CLOCK IT!