If We Survive This

by Racquel Marie

Of all the things I have to grieve, capitalism will never be one of them.

The universe wouldn’t give me Crisanta if it wasn’t going to take her away.

It’s so much better to be feared than underestimated.

I think I like being upset. Anger and victimhood make me feel good in an awful way.

The single bloody handprint on the back window reminds me that miracles these days are just the remains of other people’s nightmares.

“I suppose I can forgive you, though. But only if this makes us even for one little, teeny thing.” I squint my eyes. “That jerky I’ve been feeding us all? Yeah, they’re dog treats.” I spring up. “What?” He darts toward the door, jostling Biscuit. “They’re a good source of protein! I kept us alive! Okay, bye!”