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Glowstickia
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Myrna sometimes wonders, uncharitably, why Leonie doesn’t just get on with it: you can’t endlessly be dying, there’s a sell-by date; sooner or later you have to actually die.
“Well, I've never met an indexer any more than I've met a real writer. I'm impressed." Miss Finch's tone had changed, and she was suddenly leaning toward me, almost half over the counter. "Tell me, do you make any real money at this job, writing indexes for books?”
―
―
“It hurt, a little. I felt like I had put on a suit of armor and twisted a key at the side, chasing the air out, fitting it closer and tighter to my flesh with every turn.
But I found that it kept me in a Shape.
And how wonderful.
A Shape.
How dizzying.”
― A Guest in the House
But I found that it kept me in a Shape.
And how wonderful.
A Shape.
How dizzying.”
― A Guest in the House
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