She spent for acceleration, which left her forever high and historyless.
He existed in a windstorm. Feverishly keeping the lattice work of lies he’d built from violently splintering into the howl.
She kept no attachments. Sentimentality an affliction of the weak. The unable-to-move-forward. She absolutely had to be able to pack…
She had an unnatural aversion to the horizontal. Which led to the usual things of course, insomnia, awkward sex but there were less obvious…