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Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Dirt Shower

1st April 2012
Dear Cassi,
My last letter brought to mind an event from my youth when I stunk. I was at Alan’s house and I didn’t like his shower. It was an old thing with smelly water and even after you got the hot water running when you switched the shower head on you got a blast of cold.
Now I was young at the time and never thought to just turn the shower on from outside the tub. Then, I was apprehensive about staying at that cockroach infested hole that the old man called home.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home and sleep in my bed and shower in my shower. I wanted to look out the window and not see chain link fences or broken concrete. That place in the inner city made me feel sick, and my stepmother’s cooking made me feel worse.
It was my last day there when my stepmother grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into one of the washrooms and wouldn’t let me out until I cleaned myself. As I have no recollection of being provided a towel or fresh clothes I imagine the shower freshened me for little more than half an hour. Well, I was home by the end of that day, and that made me happy.

Stay clean, little sister

Richard Leland Neal