The red box

The red box of cheese stands proudly while hogging half the sofa. I am not sure why the box was on the sofa but it is in my spot. I dislike the red box not only because it is in my spot, but also for what it is. Cheese shouldn’t come in a red box. In fact, cheese shouldn’t come in any kind of box. I am offered the cheese from the red box, but I refuse. Someone comments on how I don’t do dairy, taking away from my protest of the red box. Someone else announces that we are going play a game. I shake my head and escape to the kitchen. I have a hard time following rules and a harder time following rules. There are flowers thrown into a mug in the midst of the chaos of dirty dishes. The flower’s petals are soft almost like human skin, I noted as I petted the flower. Mind started to drift to dead people and how their skin disappears. maybe dead peoples skin turns into flower petals. I announced this to the group and was answered with a brief silence and they resumed with their previous conversation.