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 hand. Later, when he stops to unlatch it, he’ll be disappointed at what he finds. A subway card, a tube of lipstick, and a phone with a cracked screen. Barely worth the trouble.
The subway takes off, rumbling beneath me, and I slide down into a plastic seat. Pain blooms in my side. I don’t want to look, don’t want to touch it, because doing so will be the final step that locks everything into place as real, immutable, and unavoidable.
But, the red stain rippling out across my lacy shirt demands my attention, so I clasp both hands over it. Ow. Compression is supposed to be good, right? Shit. My plans for the holiday did not include wandering into the emergency room rocking a stab wound and a vampire costume, but, clearly, plans change.
Why is this car so empty?
Yes, it’s late enough that the clock has crept over into early morning, but the subway should still be crammed with clowns…
