Olive may appear in any place at any moment. She gnaws my feet as I nap and she hangs above my head as I do the dishes, prepared to face-hug at the slightest provocation. As invasive as Japanese knotweed, she squeezes into the sink while I wash my face and waves her claws under the bathroom door if I try to shut her out. While I kneel over a coffee table strewn beads and wire, Olive crouches between my calves. I wake up in the morning to Olive gazing down at me with a curious expression.
|Olive is watching. Olive is always watching.|