Subtle Fictions

There was something to be heard. In the awkward pantomine of our touch. Tiny thoughts capitulating to even smaller ones. I had decided the night before what we'd do. The blizzard came right on time. I took the arrow by the hand and carefully inserted its poison.

Until everything was dead.

I don't know whether he knew my name. Or if his was true. I only know how he left right after we were done. Headlights in the rain. Choking on the stale of guarded intersections.

I got up to toss the bedpsread into the washer. Thoughtlessly cleaning out the red. Because there were so many new stains I still wanted to make in it.