The Great Massachusetts Spider
Miss Hall’s Boarding School for Girls, February 2015, 10pm on a school night
I guess they forgot about the old barn, dumping ground for dormitory flotsam with no lock on the door, which means it is perfect for us. On the first floor, we peel off our clothes. In the hayloft, we shiver and pass around a joint stuck between the tines of an old fork. We’re not friends. Just a sixteen-legged girl-beast, taut-skinned and boney with mismatched bras and panties and a curdled, empty stomach. It’s so hungry here
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