That’s what needles felt like. They made him show them. They told him what needles felt like and they asked him again and again. What do needles feel like? That’s what needles feel like. He saw bad things, things that were red: needles. He learned what needles felt like, then he taught them and they screamed.
The man was dishonest. His black clothes hid himself. He was dishonest. Did he know what needles felt like? No. The dishonest man, angry, screamed anger, screamed black. The girl behind him was honest. Her eyes knew what needles felt like. The needles had pierced them wide, like they had pierced his shut. He didn’t hear the dishonest man, angry. He stopped
hearing because he only heard angry things, and those things were alone, dishonest.
He followed the dishonest man’s hands, angry. The girl with honest eyes looked at him.
“He couldn’t put the sky back together,” she whispered, and they left.
Nihilistic Porcupine 