Cut and Thirst

by Margaret Atwood

Unlike Leonie, Myrna thinks. She’d enjoy the gladiatorial spectacle. And possibly Chrissy: underneath that fastidious act of hers—“Ew, a dead slug”—inside that warm and sensitive pink heart, there’s a cold, hard little peach pit.

“Karma’s a bitch,” says Leonie, “except sometimes it gets the wrong address.”