Were you born with all your organs intact?” he responds. I can’t see his face, so I have no way of knowing where he’s going with this question. “Yes …” I say cautiously. “Good,” he responds, “then I expect you to use the one beneath your skull.” Damn. That insult burned a little.
Time is tick, tick, ticking away. How many souls will I capture today? Will they be a challenge or will they be given? Only time will tell as the clock keeps tick, tick, ticking. Your god has arrived with enough hatred for y’all, with enough evil for the big and small, so come one, come all. I will shred your souls and place them in my satchel, call you a settler and make you my peddler. Come one, come all, come stand behind your god. I will lead you into the darkness of Earth's end. Come one, come all, my wilted flowers, come claim your title, speak out and cheer it. Come one, come all, let’s have a ball, my wilted flowers . . . Sweet, Unconquerable Spirits.
One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies. “They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.
Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.
When you’re in your twenties and you haven’t fully realized what you look for in a partner, the single market has about everything you can imagine and more. And you’re like a blank canvas—everyone’s like a blank canvas—as you discover how to paint a relationship together. Later in life, when you’ve experienced love and heartbreak and you find yourself single again and returning to the spouseless market, you kind of figure out that what’s left for you…is not a blank canvas for you to write your story on anymore. Every bachelor comes with a previous story, with drama and emotional baggage from their past relationships. And you—you—have to deal with it all, measure the puzzle pieces and see if somehow they might fit within the gaps and cracks left by your own experiences.
The week wasn’t even over and on top of Sam and Emma getting dumped slash divorced, Zoey remembered Ben the janitor freshly divorcing his spouse and Christopher Grave breaking it off for the billionth time with none other than Anthony Bush, her first adult crush. Those two were probably going to go on and off like the Grand Slam anyway. The world was soon coming to a broken-hearted zombie apocalypse with the not-so-better halves roaming the Earth in search of the one meant to put an end to the misery, sales of self-help books going high, therapists’ agendas fully booked, and chick flicks gone out of the shelves of video rental stores—if there were any left post Netflix.