"Maybe we’re toxic,” I said, and I immediately regretted the words. I know we like to think of the..."

““Maybe we’re toxic,” I said, and I immediately regretted the words. I know we like to think of the universe as an open system of limitless possibilities, but that’s really only true if you look out into infinity, into a time that’ll exist long after you’re dead but also long before everything ends. This one moment, billions of years into the future, where anything is truly possible. But each life is driven, somewhat, by the preceding generation and each year is driven, somewhat, by the preceding year and each month by the preceding month and each hour by the preceding hour and each minute by the preceding minute and each moment by the preceding moment. And the finer your resolution, the fewer the possibilities - and there aren’t many different ways a person can respond to being told that they’re toxic, and most of them don’t end well.”

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In last night’s Write Right Now class I left my students with an assignment - to write a story about what it means to consume the life of another person. Like the rest of the universe, lately, I’ve been kind of obsessed with Marina Abromovic and, particularly  her performance piece with Ulay, Breathing In/Breathing Out, where the couple attached mouths and breathed each other’s exhaled breaths until they passed out. I drafted my story last night and…I don’t know, I may try to continue it as time permits.

Time never permits, however. Anyways, this is the opening paragraph.