If We Were Villains

by M.L. Rio

The water, too, was still, and I thought, what liars they are, the sky and the water.

“For us, everything was a performance.” A small, private smile catches me off guard and I glance down, hoping he won’t see it. “Everything poetic.”

and I wondered if she felt the fleeting stillness of my fitful, troubled soul.

I looped one arm around her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. I felt her sigh, and when she breathed her sadness out, I breathed it in.

My eyes flicked from one of his to the other. Gray like steel, gold like honey.

The ache in my chest sharpened, the scab on my soul threatening to split wide open.

The stars gleamed cruelly overhead, shards of glass scattered in the sky.

But that is how a tragedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart—by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.

I have nothing of my own now, not even secrets.