Like Me

by Hayley Phelan

“Gemma’s was one of my favorites—” I stopped when I noticed their faces. They looked embarrassed. Maybe there was a backstory to that ad, maybe they weren’t proud of the work. Maybe I was right and Gemma and Benoit had broken up, and they were deliberately avoiding her name for his benefit. “I mean,” I added quickly, blushing, “they’re all amazing, though, obviously.” “Oh, thank you,” said Cate. “You know, sometimes I swear my memory is going—”

Gemma doesn't exist does she? She's a figment. This is American Psycho ... I knew it.

“It’s a figment, Michaela,” he said, putting the fork down. “It’s just another gymnasium for the masses to exercise in, so they don’t become disgruntled and rebel against their overlords. It gives the appearance of power, but don’t be fooled, daughter of mine, there is no power there.”