Comfort Me With Apples

by Catherynne M. Valente

From him to her. The world flows in that direction. Him to her. A river of forever.

where she will later perch briefly, swinging her legs in the air, and eat honey and butter on toast points before heading out into the buttery, honeyed light of the afternoon.

I am invested. I am on your side. You are the life, but I am the party.”

Sophia raises her eyes to the ceiling, searching for a divinity that is not there, not for her. Her eyes fill up with hopelessness. She asks a question older than day and night. “Why doesn’t He love me like He loves you?” Tears fall down her perfect face. “Why does He let you do this? Why won’t He tell you to stop?”