We Begin at the End

by Chris Whitaker

“There’s always a man. Whenever anything fucked up happens in the world, there’s always a man.”

Duchess got to her feet, picked up her soda, and launched the glass across the bar. It fell short and smashed by his foot. He stared at her openmouthed, she stared back, arms out wide, telling him to bring whatever he could, that she wouldn’t turn away.

“I just wish there was a middle, you know. Because that’s where people live. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing … sink or swim like that. Most people just tread water, and that’s enough. Because when you’re sinking, you’re pulling us down with you.”

None of us are any one thing. We’re just a collection of the best and worst things we’ve done.

“Is there a difference between a prayer and a wish?” Walk took his hat off. “You wish for what you want and pray for what you need.”

“The minister said we begin at the end.

“Guilt is decided long before the act is committed. People just don’t realize it. They think they have a choice.

“Oh my, that’s a pretty dress,” Agnes said. “This old rag. I thought it was a little short, but Hal said the minister would enjoy it greatly.”

“Hope is secular. And life is fragile. And sometimes we hold on too tight, even though we know it’ll break.”

“You want me to walk you in?” Hal drew the truck up to the curb. “No. People might think you’re our father. The bullying would be merciless.”

“You borrow your sister’s shorts? Keep walking, motherfucker.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Duchess said, fixing the bow in her hair. “Gaylon.” “Shit. I guess you had to grow up tough.”

If the good stand by idle, are they still good?

“Free will is an illusion, sooner you accept the sooner you get on.”

“We endure, right. That’s what we do for those we love.”