We’re not looking for a place. We’re looking for permission.
I clear the search history. But I know I’ll type it again. Next week. Next month. Under a different name. Searching for- KILLING GROUND in-All Categories...
I type it in slowly, savoring the weight of each letter. K. The sharp crack of a twig in a silent forest. I. The thin scream you hear only in your memory afterward. L. The long, flat stretch of dirt road before the bridge. We’re not looking for a place
"Killing Ground."