Byron

“As the soft rebellion gains speed, I feel my whole being stuffed up inside my mouth. I wonder, oh so fleetingly, how I got here. It’s a forbidden question; the mere thinking of it could open a trapdoor beneath my feet, and if I don’t wipe it away quick enough I’ll fall through. It’s a rabbit-hole vacuum and I swat the question from my mind. But it’s too late. I see a kid running down the grayest street possible. At first she looks gray, too. But then I see the embers of rage flying off her. She has rivulets of fur trickling out of her sleeves and down the back of her neck, a stray’s three-beat gait. She is not even a she at all, just an animal running, as hard as it can, panting, out of breath.”
― Neko Case, The Harder I Fight the More I Love You: A Memoir