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you tell me.” I leaned against the doorframe. I knew better than to bait her, but I couldn’t help myself. Not because I particularly liked her brand of homicidal maternity, but because I needed to wear her down.
“Is it my good looks or my charm?” “I haven’t noticed a surplus of either quality.”
I couldn’t get enough air. I drank down giant gulps of it, my fingers splaying over the bloodspot on my chest. I had died. Again.
She existed outside of time, each step a passing century, as she made her way through my lifetimes toward our shared eternity.
