End.
But moans are just words that forgot their shape. warm bodies mtrjm kaml
Before her, my vocabulary was small. Hungry. Cold. Grr. Argh. Lights out. warm bodies mtrjm kaml
But now, inside this ribcage—this dusty apartment where my heart used to live—something is scratching at the floorboards. It wants out. It wants to spell. warm bodies mtrjm kaml
I don’t have the muscles for a full sentence. I have rocks in my throat. But I push one out.
(R places his forehead against hers. No biting. Just pressure. Just a question waiting for an answer. Outside, the Bonies grind their teeth in the dark. But inside the plane, time stutters. A piano chord that was silent for years suddenly plays itself once, then stops.)