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Scarlet Tulip
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"Did you catch what days we would have water?" you ask.
"'Go home cat'! What week day is this?" says Emile, "That is the favorite day for V-town. Water will be in on 'go home cat' until 'fuck you'."
"He wouldn't tell you?" you search the cupboards for something to at least eat for breakfast. They are empty save for some of a bag of flower and a small bag of whole peppercorns. "That's his job."
"I keep tell you!" he says, walking back into the bedroom to get dressed, but continuing to talk, "no one talks at a Pachasavi. Not here! Government men are allergic to cat!"
You look into the bedroom and see a shirt fly across the room, past the door and toward the bed.
"I can't visit nokhovai. Note. Too much work!" says Emile between the clatter of dresser drawers opening and closing. Sometimes he says 'note' when he means 'no'.
Nokhovai, you gather, translates roughly to enclave, but sometimes is used to mean ghetto. It's the swath of Vilnoy populated by Pachasavi refugees. It's the last day of the work week at least, and you suppose you could offer to go there with Emile this weekend. You had plans already to see a show with some friends, so you'd have to cancel that. It's up to you!
For now, you should get to work. You're thirsty and unshowered and uncaffeinated and not in the best of moods.
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