On her wall #3

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She’s always crying, the bigger fly buzzed. All she does is sit in the house and cry.
Pathetic, if you ask me, the second fly twitched.

Sheba rolled over on the sofa, snuggling deeper into her fleece blanket.

You remember when she poured that whole bottle of vodka down the drain.
Yeah, the small fly snickered. You almost got sucked down the sink when trying to get a sip.
That was some good stuff, the big one remembered. She should have taken a swig instead of groveling on the floor and calling out to God.

Sheba whimpered from under the covers as she tightened her body into a ball, “Please God, please take the pain away.”

There she goes again, talking to God, the small fly said.
Come on, the big fly jumped off the wall and whizzed away shouting, let’s find something better to watch.
The smaller fly glanced over Sheba. Pathetic, it said again, and flit away.
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