Velcro God

She sat as though Velcro’d to her vinyl couch. If you looked at her eyes closely you might be able to watch the reflection of whatever show she was watching— probably something about guns, mysteries, a criminal on the loose.

In reality, the only reason she seemed to be Velcro'd to her couch was because she was, in fact. Melissa was a Velcro enthusiast, and had been her whole life. Her whole house was coated with the stuff. The outside of all her clothes were too.

When she built her house, Melissa thought it would be fun to make everything Velcro. She was wrong. The Velcro house had become a prison— whenever she detached from one object, she found herself attached to another. There was no escape.

Yet what was her home if not the perfect metaphor for contemporary capitalism? Melissa knew her madness, her unnatural attachment to material possessions. She knew she'd betrayed her father and spiritual advisor, Karl Marx. When the Velcro God came for her, she went willingly.