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A few snips with the scissors and she was free. Coffee was made, and we looked into the living room to view the consequences of our New Year’s Eve celebration. The living room in the area of the blanket was a mess. The couch had been moved about three or four feet out from the wall; the blanket was wet with cum and her juices; and there were toys, scarves, dish towels, restraints, pieces of my silk ties and folded pieces of blue and yellow paper all over the blanket and floor. Our housemates had not wanted to travel while it was snowing. Now that the sun was shining, however, we didn’t know when they would be back. Coffee was essential. Cleaning would be our first task. I shoved the couch back where it belonged. Sarah picked up the toys. After Sarah separated the toys into hers and mine, she tossed the feather, scarves, dish towels and tie remnants into a plastic garbage bag. I picked up all the pieces of “wish and desire” paper and folded up the blanket. The blanket obviously. I don’t like my name… When I introduce myself, I always say ‘Hi, I’m Jo’. Josephine is really old fashioned, but I guess that’s why my parents chose it, because they are really old fashion too. We live in eastern France, a village so small you can’t even call it a village. Ten houses, 30 people and an average of 60 years old among them. Lost in corn fields as far as the eye can see, the only thing higher than the crops is the tower of the church where everybody goes every Sunday for two long hours. I don’t believe in God anymore, but I still pretend I do, because every young people of good family has to go to the church, as would my mother say. We were only four young people in the village, all four of us daughters of peasants parents who relied on us for daily chores and field works some times every year… We were raised all four together, Gabrielle, Antoinette, Julie and I, same school thirty kilometers away, same high school even further. But now all over 20, I was the only one to.
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