On wanting to adapt

"A charge," she said. "A mission."

This is what she gave to me, topless, when the world
outside was all thunderstorm and rain and fury.
It's not that easy, I said, unconvinced. It's more than that. It's environment. Biology.

"Laziness," she offered. More statement than question.

I wanted to hate her in that moment.
Hate her bluntness and her perception.
But I could not. She was at the heart of the matter.
I could end this world or destroy it, rebuild to suit my needs.
I asked her how to throw the first brick. Which window to smash first.

"Act."

But how was I to act? I am a beast. With fists and teeth, thumping and gnashing.

And she looked at me hard and smiled.

"Speak, bear. Speak."