Photo by Andre Benz on Unsplash

Early, too early, in the morning

A halloween short story.

The knife slides through like a whisper, so quick and gentle I barely know it’s happened. “Did you mean to do that?” I want to ask. Perhaps, if it’s a mistake, there’s still time for a rewrite.

Unfortunately, there’s no one for me to negotiate with. My attacker is fleeing between closing subway doors, my coffin-shaped purse clutched in his…