Cursed Bunny

From time to time, her husband came home a little earlier than usual and the two of them spent a quiet evening together, but they had never had a fiery romance to begin with or had much in terms of memories to fall back on. They had spent too much of their marriage in a state of emotional detachment to really start making an effort to be affectionate now. They usually ate dinner in silence, watched some television in silence, and her husband would go to bed first in silence.

e Grandfather. Dead but not dead, sitting in the dark of some living room on a moonless night in front of an object that keeps me anchored to the world of the living.
But by the time I sit at that armchair by the window, there will be no child or grandchild to listen to my story. And in this twisted, wretched life of mine, that single fact remains my sole consolation.
I close the door and walk down the hall into complete darkness.

There’s a Japanese saying that goes, “Cursing others leads to two graves.” Anyone who curses another person is sure to end up in a grave themselves.

Grandfather used to say, “When we make our cursed fetishes, it’s important that they’re pretty.”

The woman stared at her younger self. At her younger body. At this individual created not through a womb and placenta but through the colon and defecation

baby, or of something else entirely, she herself couldn’t tell.

Whether they were tears of relief, sadness from losing the

As if making up for months of inactivity, it now seemed as if it was about to somersault out of her womb; she could imagine the baby knocking against the walls of her uterus screaming, “I want to be born, I want to live, find me a father!”

Anyone who curses another person is sure to end up in a grave themselves.

pinned him down