Is this what ____ is, she wondered, this always waiting and never being able to read the instructions. The lights always stay on for too long, go down too quickly. The people do inscrutable things. Is this love is this love is this love she chants to herself, counting the words out on her fingers and stopping when she gets to the pinky on the right word. The hip of the woman next to her is oozing into her own hip. When she twisted her neck down and to the left, it satisfied her with an ominous cracking jolt, something felt more than heard.

photo by Tim Summers

photo by Adam Weintraub