truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if sheβs sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if sheβs perhaps worried sheβs a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and thatβs enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said sheβs here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then sheβll make another one. I said βisnβt it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?β and she just looked at me funny and said βwhat do you mean? The whole world was here, waitingβ. Some people, I tell you.
