She looked behind her, everyone else was falling apart, but not her crew. She told them that they weren’t going to sprint to the finish, instead th...y were going to concentrate on their technique, they were going to look like professionals, it would be like a big ‘fuck you’ to the coaches that had ignored them all season. The response she got was phenomenal. Their catches were crisp, their rhythm was strong, they pulled ahead by another boat length. Yards and yards of open water separated them. Mostly they wrapped their sticky little tendrils around any insects that crept into her room and ate those instead. The one on the far right must have just caught a fly by the way its leaves were steadily curling towards the center. Yet she found no satisfaction in it. Nothing seemed to satisfy her this morning. Not the drawings she made nor the carvings that lay strewn about her bedroom. She stared outside at the goings on but found them mundane. Why? They hadn’t changed. It almost felt as if. More

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