After reading Mary Gaitskill's Mirrorball, I began thinking about my soul, how I've flashed it around, perhaps lost it with my carelessness. Has it ever returned to me, as it has in this story? I think so, eventually. One sentence stuck with me, a sentence that I am able to relate to with every relationship I've had in the last three years (one for each year, I think). I leave it with you to consider. Have you ever felt this way?
The girl tried to feel contempt for the boy, but it is hard to have contempt for a person who's made off with part of your soul.
