“It’s getting too dangerous for you to come here; I’ve been lying to you.”
The bulging, black cloud was there between them purring, looming, that unsaid and the about to be; fat, as if impregnated with sorrow about to soak thru cotton, the danger of being singed by the electrically boiling touch of white lightning. The invisible chemistry that passes thru the air before it starts. And she’s never looked so desperate; she’s never looked so anything, she’s deceiving herself. She’s betraying the fragile membrane of her shallow craft, unpoised and unelegant. Her mouth stays open, feeling as if she needs more breath.
“There are things that come here, now, and I can’t stop them. And they’ll consume everything I have, even me, it’s how this works… it’s a parasite, this arrangement that I’ve inherited, and I’m powerless to stop it.” And she places both her hands on the fleshy mound of his chest, because for the first time she wants to touch somebody without having to.