Reflected in the steel above, I watch the red line widen as he traces the scalpel from my navel to between my breasts. I tense as the sting turns from blister hot to icy cold; but I won’t scream, denying him that final satisfaction.
Photo by quinn.anya
We’re not made for this damp shit and neither is our tech, thought Gil.
“What seems to be the problem, Officer?
It was a dark and stormy night.
There was only one bus in town and I missed the last run, its taillights taunting me with the faint spray from the wet wheels.
