Skip to content

therapy

I can see the twitch beginning in the thick of your brow, as your eyes tighten and narrow. Your lips part, purse, then close. You decide to stay silent, and drum your fingers on the beer-stained coasters dividing the space between us.

You’ve modeled a therapist’s face of support and understanding for so many others, that you default to it automatically with me, despite how unnatural it is between us.

I speak first, and smile around my words. “It’s true. I kill people for money.” I adjust the gun beneath the table, as awareness bleeds the color from your cheeks.

(Written for The PredictionChallenge words: divide, model, speak)

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: