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.