she travels upward. away from gravity. she pauses at the intersection. to feast on the conflict. to imagine there is a difference. a needle in the eye of the random. a knotted thread at the back of her throat. to prove we have been. or might yet be. to remunerate the frail convictions of meat and skeleton for the empty skins they've discarded.
they say the world ended a long time ago. she remembers. it happened so slowly that no one noticed.
she wears the shadows. all their missing buttons and open zippers. all the particularly beautiful treasons of flesh and bone.