dreamszilla

Wren, a timid woman, comes alive when she meets Destiny, whose morbid hobby fascinates her. Image generated with OpenAI Jurisprudence hates a violent woman, and so do I. So, when a violent woman struck me with balled fists and caged me in the pink press of girlhood, I crawled in culture's basement, invisible to all but the tangled spider webs. That is, until I emerged a violent woman in my own right, blood caked under uneven fingernails and curling tongue. I blame Destiny. When Destiny popped up behind the formica counter, all blonde hair and lavender perfume and spray tanned knuckles, her brightness swallowed my judgments whole, regurgitating them into some cupcake shaped pastel thing. "What can I do you for, doll?" She is a sketch of southern life, the most realistic drawing of a Florida summer I have ever seen. "Hi, yeah, just a pack of RAWs. And this." I place a neon green lighter on the counter, the kind with a long stem. "No pr