1.9.14
Sand lifted up, dazzling, from beneath turtle fins she followed, dusting the turquoise sea with white and yellow stipples.
1.9.13
Then she left us, our heroine, tumbling through the interstices in the web of her collected experience, where electricity pulses, and the daily build up of biological residue is untangled by dissolving below the surface of waking life.
1.9.12
Eyes clenched tight on the bed, half under the top cover with a king-sized pillow pressed into her stomach, ear pinned against the stiff foam of the same cotton lover, Evelyn felt closer to home.
1.9.11
Scaling the stairs, she let her clutch fall down by a strap atop the fourth and let it go as the strap fell through the white, spun balusters, but didn’t feel quite at home.
1.9.10
She kicked her flats off in a skew two-object pile in the foyer and stretched her toes but didn’t feel quite at home.