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Here is the first story I wrote for this little history project:

“You kept your records next to your tub because you only listened to them when you soaked in hot, soapy water for hours. “Music sounds more beautiful to me underwater.” That’s what you would always say when I would sit on the tub ledge and pull your shoulders to the surface. You got so mad when I would interrupt, but I was always nervous of you drowning yourself trying to hear beauty that didn’t exist for you where you could breathe. My hands always got burned when I reached in and after I saw you breath, I would return to pacing outside the bathroom door with them glowing red at my sides. You always hated the wintertime- couldn’t stand the sight of snow or the gray skies that never seemed to stop hovering over you for months. I bought you a candle that smelled like summertime, and you never thanked me for it. But it became a new habit that you would light it while you listened to your records. I wanted to give you the world, but all I could afford were flowers, which seemed to be the world to you anyway. You, your music, flowers, tub, and I- we had the world. I brought you those flowers in a vase, I clipped their ends like it said on the instructions, hoping you would be impressed. You sat up in your tub and your eyelashes looked like black triangles and this is what I loved most about you in the tub. You smiled at the flowers and took the vase. After you smelled the carnations, you turned the vase on its side and let all the water fall out into your tub, the flowers falling shortly after.
You looked pleased to see the petals of the flowers resting on the bubbles, and watched them as you slid back down to the bottom again. You were a queen then awaiting your assassination. To your dismay, you were only exiled.
Now you only take cold showers and complain about how the time flies.”


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