Words in Deep Blue

by Cath Crowley

“How do you feel?” Lola asks. “Like I’ve just had every single one of my organs harvested while I’m still alive.”

Shitness, my sister says, has a momentum that good luck just doesn’t have.

My hair is doing that defeated thing and my teeth are the white of an average person.

“She’s my soul mate,” I tell her. “Then I am worried about your soul,”

Life is the big scheme; death is the little one at the end.

Love’s insane. But surely it’s not fucking insane.

“Sometimes science isn’t enough. Sometimes you need the poets,”

But I don’t believe that the future gives us signs. I think that we look back and read the past with the present in our eyes.

A dry, bookless world. It’s too bleak even to imagine.

We lose things, but sometimes they come back. Life doesn’t always happen in the order you want.

So I decided to take control of the situation and kiss him. It felt as though we were trapped in honey.