It's the cancer that grows deep within, satiated by melancholy, stifled by trust. There it grows. Patient and lurking. There it spreads. Sitting dormant, waiting to strike, waiting for apathy to overwhelm. The process is slow, indistinguishable from regress. Festering…

To him the younger women, contemporaries of the bride, all sounded as if they were breathing helium.

Marie and Mary lay side by side, partitioned by flimsy blue vinyl on cheap plastic rollers.