The Conditions of Will

by Jessa Hastings

“When I like something, I just like it,” he says. And it’s me. I’m the subtext.

I think it’s because he’s what all the songs are singing about. Every single fucking one of them, they’re singing about him.

“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I stare up at the big arch, which is my favorite part, I think. “Even though it’s broken?” “Yep,” he says quietly, and he’s looking just at me.