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I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Sparkling
Sand
Ocean
Clear
Ribbon
Body
Spilled
Folding
Ribbons

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Hope, that risky, illustrious thing. It should have gone extinct by now, but we keep it alive.
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Gabriel's voice can reach me anywhere. Even in a hurricane.
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It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.
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Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.
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My sisters were in that van.
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Dystopian, by definition, promises a darker story.
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You can try to please everyone and risk accomplishing nothing, or go for your dreams and risk pissing a few people off.
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I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.
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I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
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Don't you miss it? I say. Being free. He laughs.
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There is a silence so great that I can hear the ice crystals cracking and falling from eyelashes of girls who will never blink again.
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It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls. There are always walls. I say.
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I miss something I never even had.
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