Janus - Winter 2020

Untitled Andie Kinstle I ended up eating quickly, with no appetite. I collected an old sponge and a cleaning solution, one I made by mixing leftover supplies from various shifts. I did not mention to Dad that I had seen Katie, instead heading silently towards my room. I’d known for a while that the mold was growing. I saw it on my walls every day, all large and peeking through the paint. I knew it was there.

I walked inside of my room and kneeled onto the floor, right in front of the mold. The largest part was right below the window, big clumps pressed together. I wet the sponge with my solution and began to scrub at the wall, starting at the bottom where the largest amount was and working up towards the ceiling. After some time, with little progress, flakes of splotchy pink paint crumbled onto the floor. They fluttered from the wall, one after another. As they fell, the mold remained stuck in place. If anything, my cleaning made it worse. Now there was less paint to somewhat cover the mold, and it could be seen clearly for its black, green color. I scrubbed the wall raw, and still, the mold would not go away.

My room was very small. There was not a lot of space, which was fine. I continued cleaning down the base of the wall, moving slowly. When I drew nearer to my bed, I paused. There was some random clutter underneath it, including the dictionary Katie had given me when we were younger. I had tried to avoid thinking about her since I saw her earlier. Seeing the dictionary, I wondered if she had become a writer. If that was what she was doing now, where she was headed. Off to sell something worthy that she had created.

I reached for the book and carefully brushed off the dust from the cover. It had a few scratches and tears from when we would mess around with it. There were a few pages with sticky 17