The Narrator says...
If you sit quietly enough, you can hear Lacey move. She creeks, you can hear every bone snap into place as she arises. The sound of the monster that sneaks up behind you, the demon that was lurking in the dark corner. The crash of each vertebrae falling onto the next echos in a silent room. It's a warning, like the the sound of 12-gauge shotgun being cocked. Locked and loaded!
It was my turn to write on the bathroom mirror. I almost have this thing perfected! I couldn't finish because of the goddamn pile of clothes on the floor. Get to work on that, Sue!
Lacey is loved.
Lovely. Longed for. And looking.
Lacey is not lost.
Lacey is found. Straight. Forward.
Lacey is not left.
Lacey is right. Correct. True.
Lacey is not a lie.
Lacey is lucky.
Like lime green!
Not brown. Or blue. Or black...
...and then I ran out of space. It's all coming together though. It's like I have been coming up with the words to this linguistic puzzle for years and I am just now starting to see they all fit together perfectly somehow! Brilliant.
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