“Her swiping was formulaic. As the ratio of inked to bare skin–the share of pierced to unblemished–increased, so did her interest. She wasn’t attracted to them, necessarily. She was interested in the way they altered their bodies to mark moments in their lives they deemed significant.”
“I lay back in the heap of cords, which spawned and propagated from a bud, a navel, the hub of the Mimir, which still ran hot and loud a few minutes into the cooldown protocol.”
At midnight I woke membered to the night with violent blood and pale gashes swimming wild courses through the dark. Some blast from my dream rang shrilly over my ears like frantic veils.
“He looked nice, shy. She didn’t say hello, or smile, because despite her costume—a lace trimmed slip and her grandmother’s pearl choker—she didn’t care much that day.”
“Hidden deep within his heart, he knew this was not his home, and that the cabin’s true owner would inevitably come in the summer once the flowers were in full-bloom.”
“She never quite found the words to explain it, but her tears didn’t come from a place of empathy—rather, they reflected something missing inside her.”
