![]() Some of this is grief, she is certain, but she fears some of it is simply her. There seems to be no measure for how terrible something is, or what she is supposed to care about. She feels as if the world has tilted sideways and she can no longer tell the difference between personal catastrophes and geo-political ones. Alice knows she is supposed to be outraged about this fact but can’t muster the energy. A court in California has decided the mayor of San Francisco had no right to start marrying gay people. Her capacity to imagine things has proven unrelated to their capacity to happen. Another four years of W seems impossible to imagine, but four years ago she wouldn’t have imagined the Twin Towers falling or her parents dying or Suzanne leaving her. The presidential campaign is stressing her out. She cannot listen to the news on public radio any longer. ![]() Her now-silent office on the 12 th floor of an Art Deco skyscraper on Dearborn is mercilessly air conditioned, but beyond the plate glass of her windows, she knows the city is sweltering through another white-skied August afternoon. ![]() Fiction by Laura Krughoff noteable Living AloneĪlice clicks off the radio on her desk. ![]()
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