Head Like a Hole

by Andrew Van Wey

It occurred to Louis that he was watching something like a hermit crab trading out shells. It didn’t make much sense, but love never did.

She raised her nose and took on Sal’s inflection. “Mmm, yes, missionary, a most rudimentary position. I much prefer the Gutenberg pile driver.”

“I was worried you’d stayed for the press conference,” the medical examiner said and gestured to a radio near the dissection tables. “I’ve been tuned in since it started. Much more interesting than looking at dead bodies, I’ll tell you.” “I’ll take your stiffs over reporters any day,” Graham said and put on a pair of latex gloves. “They’re better behaved.” The medical examiner chuckled and opened the cadaver shelf. “God help us if that changes.”

“Did the house just change for you?” Megan asked. “Tell me I’m not crazy.” He wiped soot from his eye. “Oh good, you saw that too.”