She was the
picture of joyous abandon, soaking wet, barefoot, smiling. She paused under the
sign for Love Street. If she’d been anything but human, I would have thought
the hesitation contrived for my benefit.
I stepped
out of the alley. Her smile faded. She clutched her red purse, thinking me a
thief.
“I couldn’t
have concocted a better scenario,” I said.
“Me
neither.” Her smile returned as she opened her purse to reveal a rosary
floating in rainwater.
The storm
hid my steaming flesh, covered ragged screams, allowed her time to dispel me
from my host.
Goddamn nuns
anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment