Some
people must have friction. It’s the
friction that sparks their humanity. I
knew a girl once who kicked her shoes off in high school whenever she was going
to fight someone. That friction warmed
her, it was the only thing that warmed her.
She was so cold. So cold.
She
lied. She manipulated. She held thoughts for ransom, ransom for
which there was no offer. She held
people in place as if she were an unknown planet that had just tugged them into
a dark matter orbit.
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