Personifying Moria: "The Decision" by Tricia Lopez

“Do you think you’re making a mistake?” she asked Moria. They sat outside even though it was a cold morning, as Moria bit into her breakfast sandwich. Kayla watched her eat; she was always a shy eater. Moria covered her mouth as she chewed and looked down at her food, shaking a bit.

“No,” she said with her mouth half full. “I think it’s good for me.”

“But . . . you’re giving up everything,” Kayla said. Moria began to crack her fingers, one by one. She knew Kayla hated it, but she couldn’t help craving the release of tension. Then she began to stroke her long black hair, a comfort thing. She never laid her brown eyes on Kayla.

“I just don’t think you’re thinking.”

“I just don’t think you’re thinking about me,” Moria interrupted. Kayla watched Moria eat; she took small bites like a baby being fed solid food for the first time. She wouldn’t leave her black hair alone, and Kayla grew annoyed at the sight of it.

“I just think you’re not thinking at all,” Kayla said, as she got up. She walked away to the bathroom and left Moria alone, who pressed down on her thumb, waiting to feel a crack. There was no one sitting outside, probably because it was cold. Moria looked around. A squirrel ran up a tree. She finally felt a crack explode through her thumb and got up from the table.

As Kayla exited the stall, she found Moria looking down at the sink. Kayla stood next to her and began to wash her hands. She noticed the small discoloration of blue and purple near Moria’s neck. Moria finally looked into the mirror and began to stroke her hair again.

“I think it’s time, don’t you think?” Kayla asked as she watched her. Moria stopped and looked at Kayla. She tried to come up with a way to say her next sentence without hurting Kayla’s feelings because they were friends. She cleared her throat and clenched her fingers against her palms to summon another crack. Kayla reached over and grabbed Moria’s hands. Moria looked up. She felt the tears fall gracefully on her cheek.

“Yeah, maybe it is time,” Moria said, looking into the mirror. She pressed her hand against her knuckle until she heard the cracking sound. She left the bathroom and went to grab her bags. She searched the tree to find the same squirrel eating, and noticed people starting to arrive from parking lots to grab breakfast. She rooted around in her bag for her scarf and quickly wrapped it around her neck.

“Let’s go do this, Kayla.” She walked towards the office, where she would meet the sheriff that was sitting near the front door.


Tricia Lopez

Tricia Lopez was born and raised in Los Angeles, CA. She is currently a Professional Writing major at Woodbury University. Besides being an editor for MORIA Literary Magazine, she does freelance writing. She has written several articles in up-and-coming magazines and has also written lyrics and the concept for an R&B album.