Information is wrong, true and complete. Data is raw, passionate and fallable.
Racael drops the weapons catalogue onto the table.
"Illegal," she accuses.
"Because there is no diversity in heartland society."
"Just tell me where you got the uzasheetes from. Imported from Vulcan Forge?"
"I got it from the cruelty of children; a lack of understanding mapped out as fear and thus hatred."

Why decorate the top room of a house with five christmasstrees when you are to move out in a few days?
Why has the tiny attic been converted into a bathroom with two toilets and no door?
This strange beautiful girl is from way out of town and is leaving soon. She is romantically stimulated bu horror films, so why am I trying to interest her in a game of Galaxians?
Why do strange friends of the family keep calling when the house is usually devoid of people and my presence here is unannounced?
So many rooms... such a tall stairwell... tightly packed like a house-shaped sardine can.
Everything but his arms makes me shudder.
"Jessica, come here," he soothes, and I am shrouded in comfort all worries dissolve into fake safety.
Sometimes I can just imagine his embrace and the noises aren't so maddening.