The Devil in Silver

by Victor LaValle

Maybe they were just feeding that most natural human appetite, the hunger for somewhere else.

Pepper liked to watch that painter on television, Bob Ross. His voice was as pleasant as this morning rain. His voice as soft as his white-guy afro. If Pepper was ever switching through channels and happened across an episode of Bob Ross’s painting program, he would lie down (if he could), lower his eyelids, and just lull.

Maybe nobody ever saw themselves completely objectively. Every self-image needs a flattering mirror or two.

“That’s the funny thing,” she said. “Men always want to die for something. For someone. I can see the appeal. You do it once and it’s done. No more worrying, not knowing, about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I know you all think it sounds brave, but I’ll tell you something even braver. To struggle and fight for the ones you love today. And then do it all over again the next day. Every day. For your whole life. It’s not as romantic, I admit. But it takes a lot of courage to live for someone, too.”