she didn’t have time to suffer, or even to grieve,
each time he’d thrust his organ deeply into her, her face had distorted.
each time he did so, the squeals turned to something like sobs.
the small hole in the pink that peeked out between the lips of her vagina would remain open at those times, the white, milky fluid oozing out of it like some primitive, crawling thing.
my jeans were a little tight so it took some effort, but he managed to get them off as though he was peeling a fruit. We had sex, briefly.
i was crying all the time, but, except that i was conscious of being cold and dejected, i am sure i never thought why i cried.
the house, so quiet, with its curtains drawn, was like a dress lined with lead.
i bent forward, my face in my hands to keep my skull from splitting open
someday, i wondered, will i be living somewhere else and look back nostalgically on my time here?
i made a pot of tea and drank it at the table, first one cup, then a second, and even a third weak cup of what was left, but mr. nakano still hadn’t returned.
the only teeth i have are human teeth, i remind him, gently before opening his throat
the tide was coming in and there was only a narrow strip of firm beach between the water and the white, stumbling stuff near the palm terrace.
i nod. amen. i am your filthy god.
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