John wanted to talk about Jim and him, and so he tried to part Jim’s hair with his gentle fingertips.
But Jim parted his teeth instead. Today, the upper cut dislodged a tooth and a thought. One went sliding down John’s shirt while the other flew upwards.
Choking with John’s hands on his throat, Jim knew this fact: When John hits me, I know that he loves me, because he finally sees me.
The cat, which wasn’t part of this conversation, could only look on in alarm. The poor thing sniffed at the thought that was lying sprawled in shock and agony.
The thought was a whisper: One has to finish the other one off. I rather it be me, my love.The cat sniffed tuna and waddled nonchalantly towards the kitchen. It wagged its tail and emitted a purposeful thought: Stories about love need to be eternal, don’t you think? Just like this one where killing is part of the plot.