As we shuffled through the halls of the Vatican Museums, we were packed like sardines, herded like cattle, moving like a flock of sheep. Not much thinking was required of us, except maybe to keep on walking—do not stop in the immediate path of another person and hinder the current of this sea of people. ...
Maybe Laurie should die.
“The eighties were the best time to be alive,” my dad always tells me.
The clock strikes midnight. We gather on the couch. For once, my mother does not fall asleep. For once, my brother comes down from his room. We turn the TV on, eagerly anticipating another installment of our ten-week-old ritual. We’re watching Showtime’s latest series, Yellowjackets.
Solutions by The State News
