Dry Violence

I must say that I was rather impressed by how much blood pooled into the carpet beneath his body. I would give him a name, but you know as well as I do that names are for thinking, doing beings and he’s none of those. Some people like to name other things, but we both know they’re wrong-headed to do that. Stuffed animals, towers, streets, stones. None of them deserves to be called anything other than what they are: corpses.

He protested a lot at the thought of being dead. I was quite surprised considering how much he told me about his longing for death on the forum. Our first meeting was spent comparing scars. The slashes on our arms. The chunks out of our knees. The way his face was annihilated by the acid. Mine too.

It seemed strange to me that there would be a support group that was so specifically targeted. You wouldn’t think that acid-attack victims would be that common in the DC area. Not that many Indians. Not that many crazies. Happens all the time in the motherland; but here? In the land of the free? Still, I’m glad there was. Gave me an opportunity. I like opportunities.

One of the best nights of my life, apart from this one, of course, was the one I spent on the roof of our apartment block. You remember the one. We sang to the stars after three glasses of wine and howled at the moon after our second bottle. Then we had one heck of a shag. Yeah, I know you remember. I was surprised and you were delighted that you could even get it up. Good times.

We should go now. There’s only an hour before dawn and I don’t want the sun to see me looking like this. Too much of cliche you might say. Blood-stained woman sitting in arm-chair watching death march across the world, claiming one more victim. Not a cliche? You obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do.

Where to? Home. Obviously. There’s nothing to stop us. The zombies don’t come out in the night. Only the day. Only ten minutes walk and we’ll be there. Two flights of stairs; step around the corpses in the lobby. There are three wrecks on this street and two on the next. Heck, we even have time to dip into the convenience store on 18th. Pick up a can of something nice for breakfast.

Damn, but this chair is comfy. Time for a snooze before we go? I believe so. Snuggle me. Be sure to wake me in five. Okay, ten. But no more.

Where are you? Turn off the light. Light? No!

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