Nothing fazes the woman in white. Nothing.
She moves through the crowds like floating through clouds. Pristine in her wide-brimmed hat, dark hair streaming down the back of her fitted jacket, striding purposefully in her palazzo pants. All in white.
She turns neither right nor left. Doesn’t flinch when the velociraptor roars at her side, not even when it swipes a claw this close to her neck. Doesn’t bat an eye at the interminable lines for the escalators to the upper lot, not even when the kid in front of her drops his slushie this close to her espadrilles. Also white.
She’s on a mission, determined to be the chosen one, to be brought up on stage for the special effects show. She wants them to light her on fire, for her body to be covered up to ninety-eight percent in flames, before they miraculously extinguish the blaze at the last possible moment. She wants to feel the thrill of self-immolation. Without the sacrifice.
Jennifer Hernandez lives in the suburbs of Minneapolis with her husband and three sons. She works with immigrant youth and writes for her sanity. Recent work has appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic, Dying Dahlia, Mothers Always Write and Yellow Chair Review, as well as Write for Your Life (Zoetic Press).