The Colony

by Annika Norlin

For a moment, he thought she couldn’t have died, for she didn’t usually, but her breathing had ended.

Sex can be as many things as a conversation. A game. A bandage. A shrug. A party. Yoga? Violence. Something purely physical, almost like exercise. Bragging. People seeing each other. One seeing the other. If you are lucky: a bond.

Everyone thinks in different ways. Some by simply thinking. Others by writing. Some—like Sara—need to talk to understand their own thoughts, bounce them off someone else, hear them expressed. They sounded good when they came out of her mouth. When she was alone, she sometimes felt blocked up, like her head was full of fruit and her speech was a juicer that allowed the fruit to be used. There was no room for anything new until the old had been squeezed out, in the form of finished thoughts or opinions. Walking around alone was sometimes straight-up uncomfortable, her head in a jumble; she couldn’t grasp her thoughts.