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“You’re selfish, and then you berate yourself for being selfish, which is just another way of focusing your attention on yourself.”
Or that she would die quickly, reach the clicking end of the knob and be released, let out through the door she had been pounding on for so long, the hum of existence finally quiet.
The sand had a nighttime cool, the faintest suggestion of damp.
Poison took forethought. Poison said: I wanted to be apart from you for a while.
I was one kind of ghoul: a boy to whom nothing bad had happened, all suffering unreal as comic book gore.
What happens in a dream interrupted by death?
SCISSORS
“I’m not an alcoholic.” He waited a moment, as though making sure she’d heard herself. I’m not an alcoholic, the mantra of alcoholics everywhere.
middle-aged white men, pinking in the heat.

