Sakuya was standing with her arms dangling out of their dormitory on the fourteenth floor, exposing her still-wet nail polish to the gale-force winds that were shrieking between the school buildings. The sky was dark, holding something like a hurricane in its swollen black clouds. She whistled Dixie over the roar of thunder and yelled.
"When you die, what do you want on your headstone?"
She never asked a question she didn't already have an answer to. A discussion was not for the formation of new ideas but for the sheer entertainment of old ones.
"I don't know," Luna said, barely able to hear herself speak, though she leaned over as far off the edge of her bed as she could.
"I don't know if I want to be buried. I kind of want to decompose."
She frowned. "You and your Earth Mother shit."
Rain began to smack against the sidewalk, and she didn't so much as recoil. It dripped off the roof just beyond the tips of her fingers, where red sludge remained pooled, waiting.
