The Twisted Ones

by T. Kingfisher

“The good die first / and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust / burn to the socket.”

There is probably a sum of money that could have incited me to sleep in that room. I am not wealthy and I can be bought. But it would be up in the thousands. I’m easy, but not cheap.

I said, “Hi, cows.” I am like that. The cows did not say anything.

Do you remember when you were a kid, and you fell down constantly, and it was just no big deal? Somewhere along the way, that changes and you start to realize how old folks fall down and die as a result.