Content warning: cephalopod mortality

I met a woman last week; her eyes sparkled like she’d consumed three entire galaxies, her hair floated with the lives she’d consumed, and her skin – oh! Her skin!

Her skin was white, like:

a dead squid leeched of all its colour

a sad hairless cat on a cold day

congealed porridge after you’ve left for work

the dregs of a French vanilla-flavoured diet milkshake

sunscreen on a warm day

a freshly-peeled raw potato

the over-bright lighting in a US Kmart

unpatterned disposable kitchen towel

a sun-deprived plant

a pot of clag left overturned on the kindy table

a raw prawn