Trunk, and 1947

I’m in a small living room, loft / studio like, with a cabin feel. Mark is here, mom, and some others. I have gotten sick (strep?), and so have been sleeping in my parents bed. I haven’t notified my teachers about me missing class. Every so often, I wake, and look at the clock on the wall. It’s about quarter to 8, but I’m thinking it’s close to 3 (I had to think about this when I was writing). I get up so I can shower, and go to class, even with me still very sick.

Outside of the bathroom, which doesn’t have a door, to the left, is a glossy, dark wood bench. The door to outside may be to the left of it. It has a tall back, with writing on it, in big letters. On the first line, I see the word “TRUNK”. On the second line, I see 1947.

The couch is to the right of the bathroom, so no one can / will see inside.

In the bathroom, I see my mom’s short blue razor on the built-in top shelf of the shower. I think I’m looking for mine, or looking for a place to put mine.

Mom has some socks / knee hi’s, blue and pink, chalk colored, lying on the open shower drain. They get sucked in, or some do. I don’t say anything. It happens again, pull some out, and tell my mom not to put those there / not to do that, and she’ll need to wash them again.

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