IN MOTION

I looked at the boy; he was looking at me as if we had already agreed on something. Just by standing beside him for a minute too long, I had somehow propositioned him. I couldn’t leave him without some kind of negotiation.
You could wash my car.
For how much?
Ten dollars.
For ten dollars I won’t do anything.
Okay.
I opened my purse and gave him ten dollars and he walked down Effie Street toward certain death and I walked home. In the reoccurring dream, everything has already falled down, and I’m underneath. I’m crawling, sometimes for days, under the rubble. And as I crawl, I realize that this one was the Big One. It was the earthquake that shook the whole world, and every single thing was destroyed. But this isn’t the scary part. That part always comes right before I wake up. I am crawling, and then suddenly, I remember: the earthquake happened years ago. This pain, this dying, this is just normal. This is just how life is. In fact, I realize, there never was an earthquake. Life is just this way, broken, and I am crazy to hope for anything else.

- No one belongs here more than you. Stories by Miranda July