James

by Percival Everett

We were both animals and we didn’t know which of us was the prey. We accepted that we both were.

“Belief has nothing to do with truth. Believe what you like.

“When does the war end?” I asked. “Does it end? That’s the question. Who gets to say that it’s over?

IF ONE KNOWS hell as home, then is returning to hell a homecoming? Even in hell, were there such a place, one would know where the fires were just a little cooler, where the rocks were just a little less jagged.

Hope? Hope is funny. Hope is not a plan. Actually, it’s just a trick. A ruse.”