aren’t you afraid?” isabel asked, suddenly, and i opened my eyes. i hadn’t realized i’d shut them. her gaze was intense.
“of what?”
“of losing yourself?”
i told her the truth: “that’s what i’m hoping for.

people? they’re like dolls. plastic and shiny and fake.”
“like if you took out their batteries,” kid said, “they’d fall over.”
“exactly! who cares about people?

people are like icebergs; one-seventh visible and operative, and the rest just so much protoplasmic energy, seething around under there, looking for a target to funnel toward.

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