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Sarina Samaya

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“The chill in her heart seemed to mock her as it echoed “critters,” “debris,” and “tempestuous.” The iciness inside of her only hardened as she contemplated how she had so callously left her husband behind at the gas station. Surely no woman in her right mind would do what she had done. As she examined these thoughts, she tried to make order of them and what caused the break--for something had definitely been broken. Cracked. Fractured. And now those frozen fractals were piercing her heart and mind. She would add “soul” but at this point, she wondered what had become of hers.”

“Aw god,' Julie said. 'I wish I was dead.' She did not say it accusingly, as if it was his fault, or even as if she meant it passionately; it was as if she were resuming a conversation from the night before. 'What is the purpose of it all, Chic?' she said. 'I like Vince, but he's so goofy; he'll never grow up and really bear down at the business of living. He's always playing his games of being the embodiment of modern organized social life, the estab-man, pure and simple, whereas actually he's not. But he's young.' She sighed. It was a sigh that chilled Chic because it was a cold, cruel, utterly dismissing sigh. She was writing off another human being, severing herself from Vince with as little spilled emotion as if she had returned a book borrowed from the building's library.”