The Matter With Things Novels & Stories

I thought: she said something tonight because of the one centimeter. I thought: she needed to say something because of the one centimeter. I thought about what that meant. I thought about it carefully. I thought: a woman does not call a thing out because it does not matter to her. I thought: she said you're running because the running mattered. I thought: the running mattered because the thing you are running from matters. I thought: to both of you. I sat at the table. I looked at the wall.

Cassie: I can fight the whole world as long as you are with me and I have your love and support. Chris: Then I'm with you No Matter What. Cassie: No Matter What.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I avoided them, starting from the coffee table and the stacks of books positioned on it. I smiled when I touched the books, looking forward to reading something here on the cream-colored rugs. But the smile dropped from my lips when I took in the titles of the books. ‘How to care for a Ducati.’ ‘Piercings and their Post Care.’ ‘The Symbolic Nature of Tattoos.’

Something containable. Tomorrow they scout. Tomorrow they solve the impossible by breaking it into ugly, heavy, movable pieces. Tomorrow they build.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Real earth, not Eden's curated soil that had been maintained at the perfect composition for optimal growth of approved species, not the dark loam of the borderlands that was honest but still existed in relation to the garden that bordered it. This was something else, the specific earth of a space between worlds that had not been designated as anything yet, that was what matter was before it received the specific shape of a maker's intention. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He felt it respond to his hands.

“You’re late on your rent, your utilities are all set to be cut off, there’s no food in the house, and you have three children. You must take this offer, Lawrence. You have no other choice,” his sister told him. “Besides, Jada will have a better life than you could ever hope to provide her. She may not think so now…but one day she will thank you,” Marilou told her brother. Lawrence looked at his sister sadly and agreed.

It’s a beautiful day for a dark conversation. Pain has marred his brow and turned his face to dark granite. I step closer to him and slide my palm against his cheek. His jaw is stubbly beneath my hand. With the slightest bit of pressure, I turn him back to me and meet his hard gaze. “You’re right in one way,” I tell him softly. “The world is random. Chaotic. Brutal. That’s enough to make a person think nothing matters. But things can matter—people can matter—if you decide they do. If you give meaning to things and fight for what you believe in, then things do matter.”

I say quietly. “And we understand that,” Mom replies immediately, though her tone says otherwise. “But maybe this is a sign that you need to focus on what actually matters now.” A cold, twisted feeling settles in my stomach. “What actually matters,” I repeat flatly. “Your future,” she says like it should be obvious. “Your finals, scholarships, real opportunities, Lila. Not this…” she gestures vaguely toward the garage “…obsession.” My jaw tightens as I slowly feel that icy-cold feeling begin to thaw into something hot and burning.

Maret looked back at the ground. "There is no point," he said. "Maret—" "There is no point," he repeated, not with despair, but with simple, crushing factualness. "Nothing matters. The methodology does not matter. The protections do not matter." He looked at the town square. At the people moving like ghosts. "They realized it," he said. "And then I realized it. It is so much easier when you stop trying to hold it all together. It is so quiet." He closed his eyes.

About the things it had produced. About where those things had led. About the living room with the sofa and the rock collection and the drawing and the three figures inside the house. About the chapter pace calculated from chapter twelve. About the correct edition of volume two. About the ammonite in my hand. About the spiral. About the things more important than the system. "Very close," I said. He looked at me. "Tonight?" he said. I looked at the apartment building. At the door with the star sticker.