Shelly says if she were God or last upon the earth, not another soul behind, she'd start it all again: Breathing life in crackled sand, forming mouth and nose and eyes. Not “Adam” this time but “Ben.” Her father would be kinder and neither Fall nor bear a Cain. When he took you to the fair, he did whatever you asked, didn't he? You nod and point to clouds: cotton candy by the mile, a smiling sky that never yells.
Andreas Gripp
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