We Do What We Do in the Dark

by Michelle Hart

Mallory enjoyed listening to the woman talk. It was as if a layer had been peeled back from the universe’s shell, and Mallory saw what lay underneath it.

That Mallory was reciting only the fascinating things about her life, minus the mundane details and the too-big wounds, made her feel as though she was a purely fascinating person.

There is something pleasing about misery that makes it seem as though time has stopped.”

She was happiest on her own, when it was just her and the stories she told herself.

Love, thought Mallory, was a lot like getting lost alongside someone else.

“I can keep a secret.” “I don’t want it to be a secret. And I’m actually a little tired of keeping it.”