In Earth’s Diurnal Course, Rolling Round LEAH RIVERA
The wheel, the cornerstone of human invention, was first invented in 3500 BC. In the following 5,519 years it was perfected through both the reduction of friction and the addition of axles, all of this leading up to its ultimate function—transporting a sleeve of plastic cups, a pack of Marlboro lights, and a family-sized bag of tortilla chips through the dusty aisles of Big Ale’s Stop n Shop. Karina gripped her shopping cart lazily, pushing it forward. The mighty wheels turned, leaving squeaky scuff marks every few feet to mark their legacy. She was looking for salsa, the last item needed to complete the world’s most boring scavenger hunt. Originally, Remi had assigned her a list of party snacks and supplies that would have required three different locations, an Excel spreadsheet, and the strategic planning of an NFL coach to complete. Through hostage-style negotiation, Karina was able to reduce her responsibilities to three manageable items; four if you count the Malabros, her consolation prize. A part of Karina resented this compromise, knowing she could have haggled the list to zero. But she needed a stake in this party, a sense of responsibility. Because without the acute awareness that her absence would leave the good people of Remi’s girlfriend’s apartment without a pot to piss in—or rather, a cup to drink in, Karina knew that she would not show up. The truth is, Karina was sad. She had been for a long time. As of right now, she was the only one who knew this fact. She avoided updating her friends on her emotional state because she knew the images that would come to mind—smudged mascara and staccato sobs, wilted roses scattered among the shards of a broken vase, Ophelia just before the plunge. Or perhaps it would be unwashed dishes, missed calls, wrinkled sweats and sitting with the lights off. But no, Karina’s sadness wasn’t cinematic. Her cheekbones weren’t sharp agave review • 31
