She asks: "Why do we do it?"
"Because it's always been done."
He answers. She remembers not to ask.
She's reminded of the past.

"Isn't this supposed to be fun?"
Patiently, benelovent, "There's no such thing..."
"Without The Contrast."

They finish together.

She longs for the days before time exists and she's bemused by the irony.

Again (and against her better judgement) she asks God, "Why?"

She's unashamed and meets his gaze with requisition.
Anger flashes in his eyes but quickly fades to sadness.

He just shrugs and looks away, defeat heavy on his shoulders.

She screams.
"WELL THEN WHO DECIDES?"
Sobbing. Anguish.
"Aren't we supposed to know this by now?"
© girlfelony