By Janae Iloreta
The cold she caught from his kiss made every raspy word she spoke revive a fiery itch in her throat, and she wanted to rip out its pink flesh in exchange for a new one; for a new him, too. He was always telling her what to do, what to say, where to go.
She stared at herself—dark cherry nose, swollen plum eyes—in the bathroom mirror.
“Tali, give me your car keys!” he yelled from the hallway.
She rushed to their bedroom, shuffled through her purse, and swallowed a key, hoping its ridges would finally scrape down the pain.
Powerful!
Rage takes no holiday in this tale, and rightfully so.. Great story, Janae.