Stephen Graham Jones

Teaching a Sociopath to Cry

Think about how you’re made of water. Think about the moon and tides and about gravity’s long attraction. Think about that water you’re made of being sung to the surface. Think about it being pulled to the lower portion of your eyes in a tide of emotion.

Don’t think about your eyes getting wet and shiny. You’re not a puppy dog on a sympathy card. You’re not a cartoon rabbit. You’re not a statuette bookend. You’re not your older sister.

You’re a person. You’re a human.

As far as anybody knows.

Second Chances

(Originally published in After the People Lights Have Gone  Off.)

 

The lab director called Maddy in right before lunch.

“It’s too soon,” he told her. “You need time to grieve.”

“Maddy blinked and studied a statuette on the second shelf behind him. It was a bowling trophy. She had never suspected Dr. Corinth of bowling. This meeting was a revelation.

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