Sarah Katz

Dream of Exile

We—a band of fugitives and I—attempt to bury ourselves to escape someone’s wrath. For some reason, everyone decides to bury me first, and I assist only halfheartedly. I’d like to spruce up before resigning myself to six feet under. The more lipstick and nailpolish, the better, and I am choosy about which. At some point I realize that everyone is trying to steal my jewelry. That’s when I decide I don’t want to be buried after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 96
Not Even Playing

 

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