A Deep Horror That Was Very Nearly Awe

by J.R. Hamantaschen

Making cafeteria lunch, something I never thought about before, and I now had a new perspective on it, and all the other little mundane things in the world. There was something real noble about all the world’s little tasks. Now that I knew my life was ending, everything became so overwhelmingly, like, imbued with meaning.

what he looked like now, or what she looked like tomorrow, mattered not at all, as long as he was he and she was she.

All those nights of wondering why it had gone the way it went, and then this, this discovery, the world agog and aghast and flummoxed, with this unfathomable reality. A mystery to all, but at least a Rosetta Stone to the language of their dissolution.

the ghost of raw chickens past.

Washington D.C. Metro fails on every level other than, perhaps, its consistently reliable level of poor performance. In that category, it’s remarkably consistent.

I’m supposed to be protected, safe, this was school, for fuckssake.

Does the mouse look forward to the maze? Especially after it learns: here there will be cats?