you were always beautiful beautiful beautiful, not just one beautiful, always three: but maybe that was just because my eyes were closed.

*note: btw yall i got published (yay!) in this really pretty online journal - pls check it out if you're bored: thetiderises.org.org

"are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his hand hovering above the door.

i nod. "it's the only way."

"because i just really don't want to see you-"

"hey." i put my hand on his arm, and he stops. "you know i have to."

he looks at me for a long moment before sighing. "yeah. i know."

i try to smile, but it's too small and too toothless. "don't worry."

his eyes remain serious. "she's not who she says she is," he whispers, as if she can hear us. "you can't trust her."

the lock slides open with a thunk, and i push the door open. "i don't need to," i reply as i walk into the chamber. i can feel perseus's eyes on my back for another moment before he closes the door behind me and the chamber is plunged into darkness.

i can't see her, but i can feel her presence, like the snakes still call out to me even in their stillness. resisting the urge to shiver, i mutter: "zontana, fidi."

i immediately feel the spell running through my fingers and into the air around me, lingering for a moment before dissipating into the hissing and rattling of a thousand snakes. the room remains dark, but it's almost like i can see their tongues flicking out, reaching towards my flesh like arms raised from the grave.

"who's this?" a woman's voice rasps. she sounds like she just woke up from a very long nap, drawing out the "s" sounds as if she likes the taste of them on her tongue.

i stand up straighter. "hello," i say. "we need to talk." i take a deep breath before saying her name, as if not using it could allow me to pretend her body was still stone cold, and my voice is just slightly shaky as i whisper: "medusa."

land stretches out, yawning into a flat vastness that grazes the ends of infinity. i want to close my eyes, lie starfish on the ground, and bask in the empty prayers of the desert.

avacadoes exist, your eyes are dreamy, dogs go woof, your hair is spiky, my mom is afraid of cats, your smile makes light dance, lamps turn on, you didn't wave to me in the hallway, fires make me feel warm, twice, you didn't wave to me twice, and so everything is just as it is meant to be.

you take a deep breath and fold your arms on the breakfast table. "mother," i say. "father. there's something i'd like to discuss with you."

"yes?" father replies, his eyes never lifting from his newspaper. mother lifts a tea cup to her lips.

"i don't want an arranged marriage," you announce. "i want to marry somebody who i love."

mother pauses at the word, but then she continues to carefully arrange a napkin on her lap. "don't be silly, dear."

"i'm not being silly." your voice is unintentionally loud, and mother raises an eyebrow. you take another deep breath before continuing quietly. "i want to spend the rest of my life with somebody who loves me."

father's eyes have stopped scanning the newspaper, and mother freezes with a cup raised halfway to her lips.

"somebody who loves you." she stares at you for a long while. "do you have any idea what you are saying?"

"yes. i want to love."

mother shakes her head. "don't say another word."

you meet her gaze. "i want to love."

"you don't know what you're saying."

"i do." your voice grows louder. "i want to be loved."

"you don't know what love is."

"but i want to."

father bangs the table. "stop it!" the room is quiet as he takes some deep breaths. "do you know what we gave up to be here? to raise you here, where all of your dreams could come true?" he shakes his head. "to be in this simulation cost us everything: lots and lots of money, of course, but also the ability to-" he pauses to breathe. "you know as well as your mother and i that the programmers couldn't program love, yet we gave that all away for you, for your future, and now you say you don't want it?"

you try to keep your voice calm. "i want love more."

he stares at you. "more than endless pleasure? more than immortality?"

"it's not endless pleasure if i can't be loved!" you wipe your eyes. "can't you see that? without being loved, there is nothing." you sniff. "don't you want me to be happy?"

mother nods. "of course. that's why we came here."

"well i'm not happy, and if you loved me at all, you would see that." you don't bother to hide your tears. "do you? do you love me?"

mother shakes her head. "dear-"

"do you love me?"

mother sighs. "no. you know we can't in this simulation. we gave up loving you for you."

you shake your head and stand up. "see? nobody loves me, and nobody can love me if i stay here." you start to walk away, but you pause by your father's chair. "because of you, i've never felt love, i've never been loved, and i'm miserable. are you happy?"

he looks up at you seriously. "yes. endless pleasure is programmed into the simulation."

you shake your head. "that's not happiness, father." the door slams behind you as you leave.

there's a storm coming, the gathering clouds whisper. there's a storm coming, the sounds of thunder say. there's a storm coming, the dark sky murmurs. there's a storm coming, hisses the rain.

there's a storm coming, mumbles the weeping flowers. there's a storm coming, the cast-aside umbrella chides. there's a storm coming, moans the strewn carcasses. there's a storm coming, giggles the swarming flies.

there's a storm coming, my black dress sings. there's a storm coming, i repeat. there's a storm coming, my black dress crackles. there's a storm coming, i mutter obediently.

there's a storm coming, we all say, there's a storm coming, there's a storm coming, there's a storm coming today. the words feel cold chanted under our breaths, uttered quietly like how we pray.

"jump with me."

"what?"

"come on, jump with me."

i looked down, the rocky ground spreading out miles below the edge of the cliff. i looked back up, a smile slowly spreading out across your face and into mine. "you're crazy."

"this, this is not crazy." i raised my eyebrows. "okay, maybe this is a little crazy. but the good kind," you said.

"there is no good kind. there's just the crazy kind," i replied.

you grabbed my hand. "why can't it be both?"

i just stared at you. "you are actually, literally insane."

"so you've told me." you grinned. "we're jumping."

"wait, no-"

and then we were. and then we were plummeting, and then screaming, and then soaring. you just spread your large, feathery wings and then we were soaring and i looked at you and i knew that i had absolutely no idea just what type of crazy you were.

staring at your face, i tried to find some sort of flaw. a pimple maybe, or a bigger eye. the more i looked though, the more desperate i became. why were you so flawless? i'd take anything, a scar by your hairline even. still, the more i looked, the more knew i couldn't lie to you or me or anybody who saw me staring, for you were my perfection. you're just perfection. and that's when my throat went dry.

after carefully clasping the necklace, i let the wooden icon of jesus dying on the crucifix hang limply in front of my chest. then, wiping away my tears, i smile at him in the mirror and whisper: "well if i'm going to hell, i swear to god that i'm dragging you down with me."

christ just stares back at me, speechless.

the man slowly traced the edge of his coffee mug. it was getting cold, and she still wasn't here. of course she wasn't.

he sighed and checked his watch. she said that she would be here at nine, but it was past ten by now and the chair across from him was still empty. of course it was; she may never show, but she did always make sure to leave an empty chair behind.

of course, after waiting here for any hour, there were so many of courses floating around in his brain that he couldn't even breathe in his head without accidentally sucking in an of course. of course she didn't show. of course she didn't bother to tell him that she couldn't, or wouldn't, come. of course he was still waiting. of course he would continue to wait.

he went back to tracing the edge of the coffee cup that sat on the diner table in front of him. his index finger made wide circles on the mug over and over and over again. inside those loops sat the dark coffee which was growing colder by the minute as his finger circled it like a vulture over a rotting corpse. over and over and over. colder and colder and colder.

"sir?" the owner of the diner was now standing at his table. when had he arrived? the man didn't remember. "we're getting ready to close soon."

"just send the receipt over." the owner nodded and left.

staring down into the dark liquid, the man considered drinking it. he never drunk the coffee he ordered when he was waiting for her to not show. perhaps if he had been a little more poetic, he would've thought that the black drink resembled the pupil of her eye, but he wasn't very poetic and he couldn't remember her eye color for his life. he didn't know if he had even spent enough time looking into her eyes for him to have a chance of remembering.

the owner returned with the receipt. the man scrawled a short message on the piece of paper before handing it back to the owner with a twenty dollar bill.

"sir, this is way too much - you only ordered a coffee."

the man shrugged. "you can keep the change. just, if you see a woman who looks a lot like me except older come in, would you give her that receipt?" he chuckled. "i would tell you her eye color, but i don't know it."

the owner looked down at the slip and read it before looking back up at the man and smiling sadly. "of course. thanks for your business."

"anytime." the man nodded and then walked out the diner door, a bell tinkling over his head on his way out.

the owner glanced back down at the receipt before tucking it away in his pocket. on it were four words scrawled in a messy cursive: "i love you, mom."