Still Light
The morning started with Donnie eating toast over the sink the way he always did
The morning started with Donnie eating toast over the sink the way he always did
The steam wand hisses.
Ruthanne stopped apologizing years ago.
I can make it ring.
She watches the blue at the root of the flame.
The room is cold. A hospital cold that lives in the walls.
She whispered it aloud. Her voice. Lower, gruffer.
Forever now. Somehow that made it matter less.
Mirror. Signal. Breathe.
Between panes of glass, choice slips away.
It started as a joke, really. Betsy dared me.
“Why are you late?”