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I feel my heart beating now, fluttering around its cage like a startled bird. It, too, understands what’s happening. That it’s about to be retired of its singular purpose, and it has no idea what to do in the face of such existential finality other than simply go mad.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the ocean, to the sky, to the darkness. “I tried. I truly did. But I just can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to. Every sunset hurts as much as the first. I can’t take another. I hope you understand. And forgive me.”
the faint flicker of faraway fires.
Seeing is believing. But the real horrors live in those places we can’t see.
And once again, here we are, ignoring his warnings. We truly don’t deserve dogs.
The darkness is coming for me after all. And it has teeth.
“Why, bird?” I whisper. “Why right there? You have literally the entire world.” I don’t speak seagull, but when it answers me, I understand perfectly. Because fuck you, that’s why.
Just you wait. The ocean’s deceptive. It looks harmless enough. Sings to you. Invites you in. Then it takes everything.
He’s waiting for just the right opportunity to introduce that ugly worm bastard to our crudely effective form of leaden death.
Natalia stops screaming as I haul myself up onto the Subaru’s side. I have to do a double take. I’d forgotten how small she is. It hits me hard, how such a little thing could be our salvation. How in the face of all of this, she could be so brave. If Beth and I are evidence of the human race’s will to endure, Natalia is proof that it deserves to.
The feel of her beneath me is repulsive, like squeezing a just-ripe avocado. An avocado with legs.
