Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

Cigarettes are also unforgivable, with the way they eat at you from the inside out. Kill you slowly, and then all at once. I decide I like the ocean, and I like cigarettes. Because I… I am also unforgivable.

Something about the smell of the sea always soothes my tortured lungs, whether it’s because I’m abusing them with a panic attack or cigarette smoke.

I’m ashamed of myself, but I don’t think I know what it’s like to feel anything else.

He rolls up his cargo shorts and shows me his new ink. Black, uneven lines make up the words “Fuck You” stacked in the middle of his thigh, still puffy and irritated. This time, I genuinely am caught off guard.

“Don’t you feel bad for me, young lady. It’s a blessing to be old, and every blessing is a little bittersweet.”

I’m a shit person, no doubt about that. But I’m not a sociopath, either. I don’t lack empathy, and I’m not guilt-free.

“You’re going to ruin me, too. But unfortunately for you, that’s where I feel most at home.”

“I’m not the type of man you want to doubt,” he says, his voice deepening.

kicking me feet and giggling 🤭

“He’s a wise one,” I announce loudly, earning a few side-eye glances. “If I’m a feral dog, you’re an owl.”

“You’re a sourpuss today—more than usual. What stingray barb got lodged up your ass?” My eye twitches with irritation at his shitty joke. Then again, his jokes are always shitty.

Ecco la mia piccola ladra.