There’s always an odd sock to annoy her, a decision to be made if this top, washed to a perfect state of faded softness, is really too worn to be worth keeping - and no, sorry, Mom, it’s not going to be ripped up into fucking dusters, no matter what you always used to do.

Always the thrill as her fingers catch on a designer label, or smooth a pull through a wedding ring sheer scrap of silk...

She lied to Bethany about so much, but not about this.

Lilah loves folding laundry, and seeing how well the blood washed out.



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