I'm testing too!!

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought that she was a wolf. She sharpened her nails like claws and bared her teeth in the mirror, eyes swimming with visions of fangs and blood. She pulled on her armor like fur.”

No, no, that's a terrible story, she says. Tell me something happy, there's a war on and I've got enough blood on the carpet, on the sheets, to occupy me for a lifetime.

But what else is there to talk about? There's a war, and the price of fighting is loneliness. There's a war, and people died. There's a war, and she died, you just haven't realized yet, and while you're still walking around with your heart wound-up like a toy soldier, your hand in her hand, waxen and cold, there are bombs drifting over the diner you two split a pistachio milkshake at in September. It's the winter of you're gone, it's the winter of your steps upon the staircase, the winter of a heart without a girl, and you are forgetting all of her words, the shape of her face; peach mouth, almond eyes—

She wrinkles her nose.

“Once upon a time,” you begin again, “There was a girl in a city. She was very small, and the city was very large, but perhaps it was all a question of angles, because at times she believed she was larger than any of the buildings, stepping over them easily, her strides swallowing up blocks. No matter how far she walked, though, the sprawl lay before her. There was an ocean, glassy gray surf, in the distance, but her eyes did not see it. There was a road, to the west, snaking somewhere green and humid, but her feet didn't lead her there.”

She wrinkles her nose, and you'd do anything she asked, if she only asked. She was in Petalburg, hair turned to a copper flame in the sun, calling for you to follow her down an alley, flowers browned and tattered around her, peeking through the fresh drift of snow, but her smile was bright as bone. The withering plants clutched in your hand: trefoil, oleander, rosemary. All you had to do was follow her.

ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE