Padma Aunty Sathigaditho Vichukuntunna Drusyam

My bruise.“No…” I rise and look for a way to escape the tiny office.By the time I rise from the chair, the world has changed. I’m not in my office.Fuck I’m not even sure I’m in the same world.The place is enormous, vast, and palatial. The walls and high ceiling are made of beaten gold and pure ice. Water rushes nearby, a muted echoing sound like an underwater treasure cave.“Basya,” I stammer. “You’re not playing fair.”“I don’t have to.” She beckons me nearer, and there’s something around my neck. A chain.I obey, trembling because she’s absolutely right. In this place, the university seems hazy and unreal.“Basya, just because you chose me doesn’t mean you own me.”“Don’t I?” She flicks the chain, as delicate as a necklace around her fingers but heavy as a yoke around my neck. I stumble forward and fall to my knees. “Take off your pants.”I unlatch my belt. I ought not to be kneeling in these trousers; they’re expensive. Then again, the floor is starlight, so my pants will probably be. That they would just stop. But they’ve stopped and stayed away – so I’m smiling as I walk along. Prior to the end of the world, the forest was confined to Assiniboine – the center of the city, branching out from the park. Sure, every suburb was lined with elm trees, but the rest of it was all paved. Prior to the war, of course. Everything’s like that in your head, You lived two lives. One before the war. And this one. And who you are now is not what you hoped you’d be. I sigh. But I’m twenty. You’re supposed to have an identity crisis around now – right? Just like our big scar of a city. Sometimes I swear to God it’s a city but nothing but. Prior to the end of the world, I woulda’ swore to it. But now it’s more forest than anything. The thick trees stretch from downtown, through Wolosley, parts of the West End, all of Assiniboine, half of Charleswood, most of Saint James, half of Weswtood. As I crunch through the few leaves that have been bold enough to fall this early, I.
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