“They separated our minds when we left.” She said to me in that calm, seductive, matter of fact way that made me grow on her. I uprooted myself and crawled across the hardwood floor. I believe she was reading the gospel. Her blue hair was wild and unnecessary as she paced back and forth along the far wall. My pink vase is pastel and vague on the table across the room. The scuffed hardwood floor is running into the wall at oddly placed ninety-degree angles. The dull green walls fray my vision.

“Come back here!” She grabs for my dirty anchors, as I drag them across the floor. I manage to get just barely out of her reach and hide behind the armchair. The golden sinews decorating the purple fabric are breathtaking. I begin to search for a way out of this home. I crawl along the wall hoping she will lapse aimlessly into the TV once again, in which case I could make my daring escape.

But no, she is at the couch tearing at the pillows and blankets and throwing them wildly in the air. She screams, “Where are you? In the name of God, I hate you! Get back here! Where are you?” and rummages through the drawer. I crawl behind the couch and try to head for the vent. Slowly I drag my uprooted strands across the shape of the carpet, with pieces of dirt long left behind me. I think if I get to the grate I can get to the floor below me, and maybe outside from there.

The woman is calm now, staring into her tv and crying. She smiles, looks to her left and spots me. “I’m glad I got out of that one alive,” and smiles. “We all revert to a life of crime in the end, and we face these people every day. Walking around, knowing what they know, doing there important things, big cars, fancy houses and regular every day things, too.”

I stand up, all but six inches tall. My green leaves much darker than the pale walls. The painting across from me but above her dipped to the right. The red dragon on the left had finally gained on the green tortoise. I lifted my head and noted the lights she had posted now above me. Glued them with tack, I noted, good glue.

She was becoming enthralled in her book again. It gave her the kind of excitement that never let her down. The kind of imagination that she didn’t need friends, she had them. She was happy. She spoke softly to her self and then laughed frantically. She pointed at the man and searched the book again.

I stood up as tall as I could. I dove forward and jumped again. I carefully pulled myself through the vent and below the floorboards. My pulse raced and I began looking for an escape plan. I ran towards the dark and kept going, I saw a vent and stopped to look in it.

A doctor was helping a young man out of his coat. Her lab was set in front of her. The shark had nowhere to go. He sat on a desk near the doctor, who began to reveal her breasts. She showed the young man her intentions and he calmly began to kiss her.

I lifted my petals and looked towards the dark once again. I stumbled, dragging my anchors behind me. The dirt had rubbed off and they were beginning to hurt. My arms thumbed their way across the wood as I neared the next vent.

Two children were sitting at small desks in front of a larger red haired woman in a checkered shirt. Her pink skin was bulging out of a formal shirt. She looked like she was about to explode and kept pointing at markings on the dark wall. Darker than my skin, I thought, but not now. I looked for myself but found none. I was certain I was there, but I was not. My curves and folds had vanished. All I saw was the red haired woman, now slightly aggravated at the small inner city apes. She stomped and swore and her body shook and shivered, but the children were unfazed.

I moved to the next grate and saw him at last. There were two people sitting over him. The rug spiraled around them. One man adjusted his sunglasses. The other brushed his black suit. The