He left her hollow, her essence: shredded and consumed by madness.
Trying to cope with Nicholas's absence, Katherine seeks him in her dreams, memories of their love tying her fractured identity into a precarious bundle. She thinks she can cope in th...
*Katherine Eve Miller* @Marshall Inc. I did it, ok? I posted my pic. There! You happy?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
September 19, 2010 · 1 person
*Billy Davis* Hot! September 19, 2010 · Unlike · Comment You like this.
*Katherine Eve Miller* Thanks Billy. September 19, 2010 · 1 person
*Marshall Inc.* I agree. Very hot. 😍 September 19, 2010 · 1 person
*****
*(347-555-3469)*: Porter looked afraid of you today. I don't know what you're taking but keep taking it. Oh, and I need to borrow that book on mass transit. Don't forget to bring it next class! 4:30 p.m., September 19, 2010
*****
*October 30, 2010*
Phoebe had a habit of holding my hand when we were out together. It was a comfort since I felt like I would float away any second. The black hole had swallowed all of my major organs. If someone operated on me today, only my heart would remain. I stayed on the ground because it still existed inside of me, pumping blood to my face and limbs to keep me looking as normal as possible.
When we walked through Abracadabra, the costume shop in the Flatiron District, she intertwined our fingers and asked me to pick out whatever I wanted. She'd add it to my tab for her birthday celebration she had planned next March. She wanted to go to the Times Square Dallas BBQs at noon- because that was when it wasn't a zoo- with Steven and me as her sole guests.
"I throw parties for a living. You think I want a big fancy bash for myself? Heck no! And you gotta try their Piña Coladas, Katherine. I could drink those for the rest of my life."
Down in Abracadabra's crowded basement, she tried her costume on first with an abundance of enthusiasm. After she pulled the trigger off her left bra cup and a little red flag spooled out with "Bang" in bold black letters, we both bent over in a fit of giggles.
"Gaga ooh la la! Want your Bad Romance!" She crooned in her best Gaga impression. The other people trying on costumes loved the look, suggesting she wear it with a blond wig to give it the authentic feel.
I couldn't believe she was gonna prance around Fat Black Pussy Cat in a bra and underwear, but she swore it wouldn't be a big deal. She had been far more vulnerable in her life.
My costume made Phoebe's eyes open as wide as magnifying glasses.
"I don't think anyone will call me Brit this time," I said, stroking the soft white feathers down my stomach and on my hips. My hands went back and forth and so did her eyes.
"Well? What do you think?" I asked, folding my hands before me. The air was charged in a way that I didn't like, in the way it was when she intertwined our fingers and gazed at me at Cipriani. Her response made my insides twist into bulging knots.
