Tinfoil Butterfly

by Rachel Eve Moulton

“Everything has an end. A beginning, middle, and end. That’s basic shit,” I say. “You’re born. You live. You die.” “It isn’t like that. It’s cyclical.” She cocks her head to the right. “You begin, you begin, you begin. Or you end, you end, you end. Either way there is no stop. No go.”