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“After Rose, I had so much guilt and it simmered for a long time, until after Sarah left, and it started boiling until my head became a pressure cooker, my body vibrating with energy that had no outlet. Until I cross-threaded a screw while I was fixing the bay door at the Firehouse, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost my fucking mind, that way you do when it’s been building for too long, and when you finally snap, it’s at something you can’t realistically blame or punish, like an inopportune papercut, hitting your head on a cupboard door, or trying to put your jacket on, but your sleeve is inside out so your arm gets stuck.” — Evita Wren
After Rose, I had so much guilt and it simmered for a long time, until after Sarah left, and it started boiling until my head became a pressure cooker, my body vibrating with energy that had no outlet.
Until I cross-threaded a screw while I was fixing the bay door at the Firehouse, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost my fucking mind, that way you do when it’s been building for too long, and when you finally snap, it’s at something you can’t realistically blame or punish, like an inopportune papercut, hitting your head on a cupboard door, or trying to put your jacket on, but your sleeve is inside out so your arm gets stuck.