Being God must be like spending a summer at the amusement park. Everywhere the smells of sweat and burnt sugar. People screaming every time the roller coaster drops over the first tall hill. Look at the faces they make. Like clockwork, every five point eight minutes. And all the time, someone is waiting in line for this.

over loudspeakers 
that song you used to hate 
humming the first bar 

Bio: Rachel Greve