Listen for the Lie

by Amy Tintera

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I briefly imagine stabbing the fork straight into his neck. It’s two-pronged, so it would leave twin bloody little holes, like a vampire bite.

“Cool. You want some wine? I’m going to have some wine.” I wait for my words to sink in, but he just reaches for the bottle of wine, oblivious.

the landlord asked to see a picture of my feet when I emailed, but, hey. It’s cheap.

“If you slice it like this there’s so much blood, let’s kill—” Shit. The voice is back. Shit.

“Hitting

Unreliable Narrator....check!

Men don’t protect us, not really. They only protect themselves, or each other. The only thing men ever protected me from was happiness.”