The Last House on Needless Street

by Catriona Ward

I judge people two ways—on how they treat animals, and on what they like to eat. If their favorite food is some kind of salad, they are definitely a bad person. Anything with cheese, they are probably OK.

Getting hurt makes the body and brain weird, even if you don’t feel the pain.

I am part of the forest, tonight. It holds me in its heart.

“In this country, all the people are afraid of death. But death is what we are. It is at the center of things.

She thinks, Oh, she got away and he is dead, and joy surges through her. Then she thinks, But I wanted to kill him.

“What’s a regular person?” he says. “We do what we can.”