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<You Killed a Kiwi - The Situation Comedy For Those With Wounded Egos>

Winter 2018-Summer 2019
New York


 <Right Between The First Day of Spring And The Last Night of Winter>

You took your scarf. You took everything. Left nothing behind. Except your ghost. 

It took up more space than a body. It did not fit inside the wardrobe. Nor the bedroom. It started growing all over the apartment. They began to notice the difference in the air. It wasn’t visible, but it was very tangible. Especially to the suspicious ones. Especially to the cat. 


It did not give me insomnia. But it did to the poor animal. She was sniffing every corner nights after nights looking for some visual evidence. Like a detective with extreme empathy sniffing after blood for a serial killer, only to find bodies after bodies, she got depressed. 


While I, I locked myself in this barren space, where bodies were replaced with shadows and conversations with overwhelming white noise, hoping that, when I finally decide to crawl out of it, you will still be there. Right by the exit. 

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