The Fabric of Our Souls

by K.M. Moronova

That’s what the real world does to us, isn’t it? Grind, grind, grind for forty-plus hours a week just to stand at the grocery store and worry about whether you can afford food.

“Everything dies in the fall. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

“You should wait… and it doesn’t have to be for anything specific. I’m just saying—wait for the weight of the world to pass. Wait until the tremors that wrack through your skull drift into the depths again. Wait until the sun rises, and the light makes you feel a little less pointless.”

“We’re the perfect elixir. I want to feel alive so fucking desperately—I’ll chase the high forever if I have to. Nothing’s worked for me yet.”

The fabric of our souls is thin—we’ve been wandering this world just to unite in this small corner of the universe.