RIP Gustav

You watched me wash my brushes out every night. Waited patiently for me to turn the light off and leave you to your tapping and clicking. I thought your little Blattaria feet gave me reason to curl my toes. Your shadow delivered the possibility of a late night encounter, it was always a deadlock. You never budged, not even a slight scamper. We had an understanding. Two creatures with nothing to lose by allowing the other a peaceful and quiet evening. Now you are nothing more than a smudge on the grey cement floor. I miss you every time I see the mark that was made between yourself and that cruel heel. My cucaracha, how I miss your taking up that space below the pipe, under the sink that I wash my brushes out in every night.

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