Dead to Me

This piece is only available in the print issue of Belletrist magazine.

Drifting here on the far side of the moon and sun, she feels strangely at peace. Trigger does, too, in the falling rain and the question of goodbye.

The innkeeper drugged us first with free wine, and chopped us up, one at a time, while we were asleep. I woke while he was stirring us.

Tomatoes.
Chop, chop, chop.
Okras.
Thinly.
Chop, chop, chop.