"Matter and motion," you said during our first surreptitious, off-campus lunch, "is all." Then you kissed me.
I leaned in to that kiss. To your touch. Your bed.
Your department head discovered us. You wanted to end things quietly. I refused.
Impetuous, like my willingness to meet you. To make up. Alone.
"If vice makes you happy," you said, "then love vice."
Now my matter moves to disorder. Ripe. Rotting. Forgotten.
Except by you. Shivering at bricks and shovels. Wondering if the crossing of that great gulf goes only one way.
How ironic. Finally something I know that you don’t.
Saturday, December 13, 2025
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7 comments:
Yowch. Well-played.
Ryan: Glad you liked it! I don't write a lot of crime-related stuff, and this was an attempt.
I like this one. Something about the petty scale and tragedy almost has a Fargo feel to it. "And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it."
I need to re-watch "Fargo." It has literally been decades.
Oooh, I love the ending on this. The last few lines are like a flurry of blows right to the gut.
(Funny story, I initially wrote the last two lines, then went back to re-read because I was like, 'Was it two or three?'. It was three. That's why there's a deleted comment here ;) )
Thanks! Crime fiction is one of my more neglected genres, so I'm chuffed that people aren't instantly repelled by it.
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