"She knew a trick. She knew how to turn her life into a movie and watch things happen. Not to her but to a girl who looked just like her.

Was she the runaway with everything she owned in a ratty old backpack? Or, was watching a movie about a girl hitchhiking runaway on a lonely highway?

A truck slowed till the girl squinted in his headlights. But one good look at her and the trucker couldn't get out of there fast enough. She didn't even have the strength to curse him as she choked on the dust of his spinning wheels."

I know who killed me.

Love is a feeling that does not detract from a birthday to the next. No. Love is an exaggeration... No. It is a batch? A swarm, a flood, a madness, a necessity? Maybe because it has no sense, maybe because there is no explanation, this thing of love she didn’t know how to explain, the girl.

she is cold,
still,
waiting in the ether,
to form,
feel,
kill,
propagate,
only to die

dissolve
magically,
absurdly,
she'll end,
leave,
dissipate,
coldly
and strangely
return