I should get a flu shot this year.

Their crimes make it okay. Leaning into the sandpaper the seeds of prudence pop like bloody blisters and saturate the outstretched ligaments of a mortuary. Their soggy bones palpitate and the cave reverberates with sensation. One wish, one sign, and five resignations; three misgivings, two premonitions and sixty-five identical stamps bring a twitch of a smile to the longing on her face.

"How does it feel to be alone?"
"I'm not."
"How do you know?"
"There's more to it than that."
"What?"
"You don't need somebody. Somebody needs you."