Nothing But Blackened Teeth

by Cassandra Khaw

One girl each year. Two hundred and six bones times a thousand years. More than enough calcium to keep this house standing until the stars ate themselves clean, picked the sinew from their own shining bones.

I read somewhere that it takes about twenty minutes to die from disembowelment, which doesn’t sound long at all but hurt has a way of stretching out a heartbeat into an infinity of going colder, slower, every breath another starburst of too much to cope with, lighting up the cerebrum with constellations of anguish.

Then, we tucked ourselves into our own lives, drifting until we were nothing but Facebook notifications to each other, an endless circuit of birthdays and likes and curated photographs.