Chapter Six

Waternova

Ugh, like what are these things that spin me round and round? That carry ladders, carry me-me-me melodies. That trample through my really tidy field of view without even asking or looking out for the pretty peripheral flowers or saying I’m so sorry, Zoe, it’ll never happen again. Without even paying for a brand new yard of perception or a foot of color or an inch of Zen. That always talk, talk, talk . . . Ugh, seriously now, what are these other people who just won’t ever leave my adorable little senses alone! . . .