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A Terrible Idea 22

Anne turned off the TV, unable to believe Betsy’s report on the cult that had sprung up around David’s resurrection.

“No,” she said, holding the TV remote in her hand.

“No?” She repeated to herself. “Nuh-uh.”

She spun the idea around in her mind: David might’ve come back to life.

“No!” she said, laughing. She’d murdered the shit out of him.

“Nope, nope, nuh-uh, no way.”

She plastered a fake smile across her face, telling her she’d feel better if she acknowledged the impossibility.

It’s not impossible, he came back to life once. The thought hit her like an ice pick to the eye.

“Nah,” she said.

Why is it so impossible to imagine? she wondered.

“Because I fucking said so, that’s why!” she yelled.

Don’t get angry, don’t get angry. These are just some dumbfucks who don’t know shit.

“Dumbfucks,” she said. “Don’t know shit.”

She brought the fake smile out again, cuddling up in a ball and grabbing the remote control. She figured she’d turn something on, but then she realized the TV was already on the news. Sure, she could change to The Cartoon Network real quickly, but she’d have to see the news — she’d only see it for the briefest of moments, but she’d still see it.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” She held the remote out, but as she tried pressing the ‘on’ button with her thumb, she found that the thumb wouldn’t cooperate. “I am soooooo fine.”

She continued to fake the smile, until thinking, You know what? I don’t even need to fake this smile! I’m fine without faking anything!

She stopped faking the smile, only to feel a rumbling in her stomach. It was a terrifying melange of guilt, fear, and the Hot Pocket she’d had earlier.

Oh god, she thought to herself. Not fine, not fine, not fine!

She raced to the bathroom, where she then proceeded to puke in the toilet bowl.

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