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truly I struggled to lift her, as if the whole substance and magnitude of her future were jammed into those spindly feverish limbs.
Sometimes the devil you know is bad enough to chance the one you don’t.
That our job always and forever was to refuse Apocalypse in all its forms and work cheerfully against it.
Pinned by radiance they looked like fresh exhibits in a museum of distress.
What scares me is the notion we are all one rotten moment, one crushed hope or hollow stomach from stuffing someone blameless in a cage.
shopping for new histories and greedy for the dullest lives a human could invent.
