Quinn Seward

A writer's attempt to redeem herself through a cyclone of reimagining a heartbreak.

While her mind is drifting, right when the kettle begins to whistle, she hears a something outside. It's a trash bag. Inside it, a pregnancy test.

One is tempted to believe that the creature once had some sort of intelligible shape and is now only a broken-down remnant. Yet this does not seem to be the case; at least there is no sign of it; nowhere is there an unfinished or unbroken surface to suggest anything of the kind; the whole thing looks senseless enough, but in its own way perfectly finished. In any case, closer scrutiny is impossible, since Odradek is extraordinarily nimble and can never be laid hold of. - Franz Kafka