There’s No One to Touch Her

The clouds sat heavy, tempting rain with every second breeze. The pansies had dulled to grey.
‘What will we do now?’ He flicked a lighter over in his fingers, the flame brushing his fingernails. His gaze steadied upon the gravel.
‘What is there left to do?’ She fiddled with a lose thread on her jumper, tugged, and made a hole.
‘We could sleep together.’
‘We could put on some jazz, dress her up and dance her around the sitting room.’ She continued to tug.
‘What the fuck.’
She didn’t reply, tugging.
A moment past. A second breeze pulled down some rain.
‘What the fuck.’ They fell explicitly into the air.
A faint laugh stumbled from her. Her sleeve was threaded up to the elbow.
The body lay above them, motionless, as is usually characteristic of a corps. The impact had been so direct to the brain that it had left no indications of mistreatment, and one might think she was sleeping had they happened upon the room. Her lilac dress still clung awkwardly to her hips and her shoelaces remained undone. Her lipstick had smudged in the left corner, most likely a result of the fall. She was splayed on the floor. Stilled, and more beautiful than she had ever been.


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