Blind Allie 5:1

“Swear to God, Allie. I sometimes wonder if you have a brain.”

“None of us does, Missy. That’s the point. Why would I listen to a fish biologist when no scientist can explain how we are able to exist without a brain or any other organs?”

Allie had made up her mind, and nothing Missy said was going to change it. She wasn’t going to have her gonads removed. Instead, she was going follow the counsel of her priest and accept the sensation in her inguinal area as another gift and a heavenly sign that she had entered the labyrinth.

She couldn’t put her boney finger on the trigger, though summer had recently turned to fall and, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had pretty much stopped eating. And then there was the urge to run up to the spot between the seafood and legume stands at the market where her parents found her so many years ago. Weakened from the lack of food, she surrendered to it, having persuaded herself that the urge was a divine calling (No. 2).