If Utopian Fiction Became The New Trend,

We Don't Know What's Happened Out There Since They Put Us In Here, Or How Many Generations Have Lived And Died Since They Did.we Could Be The Last People Left.

That Execution Will Take Place Here." She Runs Her Fingertips Over The Table Beneath Her. "on This Table. I Thought It Would Be Interesting To Show You." "i Knew What Would Happen When I Came Here," I Say. "it's Just A Table. And I'd Like To Go Back To My Room Now.

We Kiss Again And This Time, It Feels Familiar. I Know Exactly How We Fit Together, His Arm Around My Waist, My Hands On His Chest, The Pressure Of His Lips On Mine. We Have Each Other Memorized.

Four Sits Down On The Edge Of The Carousel, Leaning Against A Plastic Horse's Foot. His Eyes Lift To The Sky, Where There Are No Stars, Only A Round Moon Peking Through A Thin Layer Of Clouds. The Muscles In His Arms Are Relaxed; His Hand Rests On The Back Of His Neck. He Looks Almost Comfortable, Holding That Gun To His Shoulder. I Close My Eyes Briefly. Why Does He Distract Me So Easily? I Need To Focus.

I Think You're Still The Only Person Sharp Enough To Sharpen Someone Like Me.