Bunny (Bunny, #1)

by Mona Awad

I’ve downed a few Samantha cocktails as well as several Light and Sunnies, a sky-colored drink they invented that is the inverse of a Dark and Stormy.

Small dark eyes like liquid smoke. His prematurely balding head of brown curls. His pale, thin-lipped smile that made me pant-y with fathomless lust.

I think she should apologize to trees. Spend a whole day on her knees in the forest, looking up at the trembling aspens and oaks and whatever other trees paper is made of with tears in her languid eyes and say, I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry that I think I’m so goddamned interesting when it is clear that I am not interesting. Here’s what I am: I’m a boring tree murderess.

My heart is bliss. A song I used to hate that I loved surround-sounds my soul.

And I thought of Chuck E. Cheese. When my father took me there once for my birthday and we watched the mechanical animal band sing. How after they were finished, I tried to ask them questions about their instruments and they just stared at me with their dead eyes and—

She is cherry blossoms falling. She is serious moonlight. She is shivering green leaves.