We sit, clashing smiles, seeing each other, hoping for blood. Again. It’s not enough to read our history. Word of mouth is a joke we understand, it’ll only play out nicely when we kill one another. Don’t you agree. The boy was confused by the rock. It was a menacing rock. He’d been deep in the woods and fallen asleep next to it. ‘Why do you speak to me, rock.’ the rock did not reply.