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"
This
is
cancer
,
right
?
"
she
said
.
Then
she
said
,
"
Well
,
hi
,
I
'm
Marla
Singer
.
"
Nobody
ever
told
Marla
what
kind
of
cancer
.
Then
we
were
all
busy
cradling
our
inner
child
.
The
man
still
crying
against
her
neck
,
Marla
takes
another
drag
on
her
cigarette
.
I
watch
her
from
between
Bob
's
shuddering
tits
.
To
Marla
I
'm
a
fake
.
Since
the
second
night
I
saw
her
,
I
ca
n't
sleep
.
Still
,
I
was
the
first
fake
,
unless
,
maybe
all
these
people
are
faking
with
their
lesions
and
their
coughs
and
tumors
,
even
Big
Bob
,
the
big
moosie
.
The
big
cheesebread
.
Would
you
just
look
at
his
sculpted
hair
.
Marla
smokes
and
rolls
her
eyes
now
.
In
this
one
moment
,
Marla
's
lie
reflects
my
lie
,
and
all
I
can
see
are
lies
.
In
the
middle
of
all
their
truth
.
Everyone
clinging
and
risking
to
share
their
worst
fear
,
that
their
death
is
coming
head-on
and
the
barrel
of
a
gun
is
pressed
against
the
back
of
their
throats
.
Well
,
Marla
is
smoking
and
rolling
her
eyes
,
and
me
,
I
'm
buried
under
a
sobbing
carpet
,
and
all
of
a
sudden
even
death
and
dying
rank
right
down
there
with
plastic
flowers
on
video
as
a
non-event
.
