1indignant screams make a nice background for a fire. strike, strike, hiss go the matches. aren't fights a fire anyway? the crumbled leaves ignite first. funny, her hands tremble as though it's her flesh that's burning. yellow erases white until the corners turn to char and the stench of boiling ink billows up and into her throat. a knot. the alarm goes off. she's crying. how foolish, how...
"i'm through with you." okay. okay. okay.
why'd you make a human you'd grow to fear? scorching her outreached palms until the digits retreat. the feeling eventually dulls though the lashes persist. she reacts mechanically. like severed nerves that continue to tingle. if love is punished, how is she to be? beautiful mary bandages the wounds - isn't it enough? enough. to hide. to flee.
tell me about justice. unconditional love is pacifism. but there are times when justice requires a fight. how does one decide? yes, we're mostly wrong. but when we're right? is it still wrong?
that isn't all. they retrieved the stack from the ashes. preserved. she miscalculated. they hid it, hid it well, but she found it by the smell. clasped its blistered body in her hands. at once, it bore a different value. destruction does that. when she wanted to cut it to death, it willed her to desist.
some story. what's it all about? she asked but no one replied. she tried to dent their cocoons with her pleas but... maybe she hadn't a voice? or maybe none of it ever happened.
not even her.