I Sew You

I remember the cold, damp floors of our decrepit apartment. The incessant squeaking of rats, the stench of decay. A world of shadows and secrets. It was in this grim environment that my obsession was born. I would spend hours dissecting the rodents, their tiny bodies a canvas for my morbid curiosity. I'd sew their limbs back on in grotesque positions, breathe life into inanimate objects. A hobby, a twisted pleasure. The line between creator and destroyer blurred. I was both God and Devil, giving life and taking it away.