Wounds: Six Stories from the Border of Hell

by Nathan Ballingrud

And then Carlos thought, You left me. You left me in the end. Why? He hugged his dog close, burying his nose in her fur. He knew there was no answer beyond the obvious, constant imbalance in any transaction of the heart. You don’t love me the way I love you.

In dark fathoms, something turned its vast head, and found it beautiful.