
WHEN IT BEGINS to rain, shoulders slump. hair still red from possession turns the color of blood when the water hits it, green eyes squinting up at the sky. ‘ REALLY ? ’ preacher’s daughter questions the HEAVENS, though she’s long since stopped expecting answers. she’ll never be able to wash away the xibalban touch that has been laid upon her - the hint of nihilism, the lack of faith she never thought she’d live to experience. kate ducks under a bus stop, placing her bag on the bench to dig through it for an umbrella, a jacket, anything. ‘ damn it, ’ she sighs, beginning to UNPACK things, taking as little space as possible. bible is the first to be pulled out, the volume thunking heavily against the bench. the rest, she can hold in her hands - other books she’s knicked from marketplaces, too many pairs of sunglasses to count, and a thin summer scarf. ‘ what is the use in carrying a bag if i never have what i NEED in it ? ’ she questions aloud. / @ohfiendangelical