Micro Fiction I Wrote Earlier : There Will Be A Vast Silence

My rage is a deep wound. It’s under my skin, my blood, my bones. You kiss the scar tissue on my forearm and press your cool cheek against the hot, pale ridges.

“I’m blessed to have had you.”

You say it so lightly, it’s almost as if you didn’t say it at all. But I know it’s because soon the entire world will be roughly consumed by a hungry dark, and you want to keep things soft for as long as possible. My entire life, until we met, was a difficult flight. Too many rough fuckings, hard beatings and razor blades.

You move so we are sitting face to face on the bed. We haven’t changed the sheets in a week. The room smells of sex and burnt toast. You press your forehead against mine. It fits perfectly. You smile. You’ve come to terms with the fact we’re both going to die. I haven’t. It’s mid July. The world shouldn’t end in summer. It ought to end one winter night, when we’re all hidden and sleeping and oblivious.

I remember the first thing you ever said to me. We were standing in the same queue in Tesco. You had beans and Tesco Value bread in your basket. I had a kitchen knife and milk. You leaned forward and whispered into my ear “I want to climb into your psyche.” It was the last thing I expected to hear in Tesco. Outside I hung around the trolley park and pretended to count my change. You asked me for my number and here we are, several months later.

Nobody is stopping anyone from doing anything, and the city is offensively loud. People break into stores for TV’s they won’t have time to set up, fill trolleys with frozen pizzas they won’t have time to cook. You make a tent on the bed using our thickest blankets, pieces of wood and a nail gun. I sit against the cold radiator and watch you work. You’re so methodical, so calm. It doesn’t take long. “There has been enough shouting and crying,” you say before leading me inside. You’ve sprayed some of my vanilla body spray, so the scent of sex and toast is covered. I feel safe for the first time in twenty three years.

“Make me forget it all,” I ask you. And we kiss each other unconscious.


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