She said his flesh and clothes matched the desert landscape.
She said he was confirmed dead after
“I saw his head fly back and red sprayed everywhere.”
“Did you cry…er…I mean…how did you feel?” I asked.
“I felt a little like crying.” She replied. “But I was following orders.”
I gawked at the wall behind her, and tried my best to give the impression
I was looking into her eyes. Her voice was complacent in a monotone. A side effect
Of the Valium she was prescribed. She offered me two pills; I swallowed them
With phlegm I conjured from some spit. I tasted chalk on my tongue, but ignored
The aroma and followed my thoughts searching for words to fill the silence.
“Does it help to talk about it?” I said.
She laughed vigorously, shaking her chest and bouncing her breasts
Up & down. “My therapist seems to think so…”
“Is he right? Do you feel better?”
“I never feel good about it.” She paused and bent down to tie her shoes,
She continued speaking and directed her voice towards the floor.
“I guess talking about it just gets me used to the idea that I killed someone.”