“Every time you stub your toe you want to break the rock. Doesn’t matter who taught you to swear and punch and then to shoot, bumpstock nestled against your chest. Kill, baby, kill. Until the eyes of your eyes open and the ears of your ears notice niggunim, all you’ll ever know is that broken and aching toe. Each time you look in your mirror, I’ll be there in the flicker of light, the swaying curtain, the background to your melting face. You never even saved Esther’s people, you know; only, for once, you got out of the way and let someone else do some killing.”
Art by the author
