It Ends with Her

by Brianna Labuskes

Because what else was there to say as the mourners trudged over the saturated earth to the soundtrack of quiet sobs?

Clarke waved toward the window as if it were their descent that had her stomach trying to eat itself and not the absolute soul-sucking futility of putting one metaphorical foot in front of the other in the never-ending shit parade her life had become.

Patterns could be infuriating when they trapped you in their labyrinthine walls, but they also offered a sort of solace that made it almost bearable.