Choke

By Annelise Altman

Unwanted words spill from his lips. My fingers press hard against my glass. If he looks carefully, he’ll see my fingernails drained of colour. But I know he won’t notice. He looks away. And that’s when I realize. He’s not going. He’s already gone.

The glass slips from my hand splintering at my feet. He shakes his head. It’s me apologising. He’ll clear up he insists. The shards glimmer their finale in the late sun. Swept aside there’s little trace. He asks me what I’ll do. I’ll be okay, I say.

He leaves. I breathe in the agony. And I choke.