OldAgeHomesAreWhereThingsBreak "I fix this for her every week!" Her sprightly, desperate cackle sticks in the stale air with nearly tangible desperation. Through her spotlight-lively fingers, tangled irreparably is a mess of tarnished gold. Corroding. Decomposing. The tiles have all cracked beneath these heavy feet, embossed with thick cords in gnarled knots through the glimmering, pallid sheets of a long-awaited deathbed. Thin, peeled, dermal rags are swathed loosely to their bones. Flaking. Disintegrating. Her fresh heels cl
(Yvette Fury? That name is a win)
(yeappers, i have fun with their names lol)