by E.C. Myers
I find myself not wanting to go to the cinema to see a movie, for example, because I’m convinced there will be someone near me in the theatre who will play on their phone or talk or eat their popcorn too loud, and the thing that frightens me most is that I won’t focus upon the movie at all but on how cross they’re making me feel. I don’t go out to do things I might enjoy for fear that someone will be there who’ll prevent it. I itch for confrontation—but I hate confrontation. I think that’s what “Alice” is born out of.