The wiping days are no more, merely a whisper in the wind. The specter calls to me, softly. I do not call back, but I listen. Our arrangement was unwarranted, but missed dearly. The specter was never welcome, but his presence was still that, present. He was a chilling spirit, yet warm in my heart. Bathroom specter, thank you for what you gave me: not just a clean wipe, but a clean soul.
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