Donkey love was real, apparently, and very deep, because Dave continued gushing for thirty minutes.

“We accidentally ate weed,”

She got the feeling she might drown in gender fluids if she stepped inside, or that her own gender, not all that solid to begin with, might deliquesce like fungi and stain the pink counter stool, but that it might be good for her, just what she needed. She stared at the bright fruit painted on the side of the building and wondered if she should cut

The truth was, Greta only felt “normal” for one week out of every month. The week before her period: rage, lust, and what felt like clarity. The week of: cramping, fatigue, self-pity. The week after: mind-numbing depression. That left one week of feeling “okay” and “like herself,” but sometimes she wondered if it was the only week in which she wasn

She told me she made suicide pacts with four different people, “just to cover her bases.”

“Did you see my sunglasses?” Greta asked him. “On your head,” GMT said. So they were. “Sorry,” Greta said again. Just kill yourself, Greta thought.

Greta idly wondered if bees pooped.

He doesn’t mind your perfume? What is that scent you’re wearing? “Pussy,” Greta said.

“You’re the vain one, not me,” Big Swiss said. “I’m only checking to see if I exist. I feel like a patch of moving fog most of the time. When I look in the mirror, I’m always startled to see a head and limbs.”