Koahara

In metal bodies held to asphalt we are snared by indecision— by something larger than ourselves. Our eyes stray and consult the fickle neighbor for direction. His tires waver in distress as the screaming procession of blood red lights nears. Underneath the standstill, the road suffocates. Roadside daisies are muddied in the stampede of cars moving to the right. They bleed in chemicals, wailing to their roots to save them. She bleeds in blood, wailing to the ambulance to save her.

CHAPTER 3 Imana’s face grew flushed at the sight of her father. “What? You’re Horus?” She looked over at the startled Anpu, with his dark fur upright and his pathetic, weak cries tepidly leaving his lips— he probably just peed himself, she guessed. But piss and feces wafted from the den entrance, as such was their world, and it proved hard to discern whether Anpu was already a part of that distinctly childhood smell or if he renewed its freshness. Her nose examined him more closely, then recoiled as his smell soured the air even more. She shuffled her weight away from him, hoping he did not notice. And with his