The Battle Between the Dirty and the Clean

"Oh, conquer. Let me wipe away this costume so you can see the stains I have always carried," she writes. "I pressed a cheek against a soft spot in the fabric, cool and slightly damp in order to leave a symbolic kiss of detergent there." A seahorse shaped blood stain inches from my face seemed very old, stubborn, not the kind you can just blot and treat and wash away,. The wind rose, lifting the corners of pillowcases and rustling uniforms. We were united for the battle between the only two true factions, the dirty and the clean.