Guilt Times Pi, by Lana Casiello-Boyle

Can I live?  I exude melodrama  — an overly trite and banal tendency. Troubling reverie unsettles one: if  God agonized over making us suffer love and its delights, can he absolve  obsession?  Crime, my devilish paramour, begs a reckoning. Execute a murder  — bloodshed for heartache — unbalance the natural world completely.