I invited some buffalo over for dinner. It was a big success. We talked about genocide and time management, recent feminist trends in agricultural studies, the illusory nature of sensory experience, all while they grazed with gusto.
So fast did the night go by that when they had left it felt like a tornado had razed my apartment, leaving me broken in the ruins of what used to be mine.
But then it is just those kind of exaggerations that buffalo cannot stand, I thought to myself, still feeling the shadow of their presence.