The two faced each other, finally. Her eyes, like knitting needles, had prodded his left cheek for the past hour, not enough to hurt. Hurting needles do not irritate as her needles do. Avoiding the dead stare, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m so sor-”

Smothered by her single upright finger on his lips, the unfinished idea bounced eight times before settling.

“I’m so sor-”

“I’m so sor-”

“I’m so sor-”

“I’m so sor-”

…

Shhhh, she whispered.

Awkwardly trying to stay out of the searchlight beam that was her face, he shifted on his stool and looked around the room again. As if the silence had manifested itself in soft slime oozing from the walls, his tired eyes could only glaze slowly over his bare surroundings. A bare living room, seven miles wide. Glass walls. Steel counter. Flat sloping IKEA stools. Fluorescent tubes, naked on the ceiling, bathed him and her in unhealthy, sanitary white. The mosquito buzz of these lamps had long been forgotten, left behind in the cobweb corners of the mind.

His eyes came full circle and returned to her still staring intently at him. He held the stare as the thinnest of ribbons formed between him and her. When he noticed, he cast his view down and broke the gaze, ripping the shimmering strands apart in the same motion.

“There was poison in your drink.”

His eyes were squeezed shut. Two hours later, he opened them and the tears held back behind the floodgates surged forward. A brief smattering of liquid on the ground. It was quickly over.

The six, five tears pooled together and captured the unhealthy, sanitary white and threw it all across the room. He and she drowned.

Are those tears?

“We were young and our ribbons were bright red and could wrap around the world -”

He continued, ignoring the one finger standing again on his mouth.

You never cry.

“- and look at us now, here -”

Two pairs of eyes were transfixed at a slowly, slowly evaporating puddle.

We never cried.

“- staring at each other, just -”

His voice was distorted, muffled by the ocean tears they were submerged under.

We never cried.

“- staring at each other like AN OLD FUCKING PAIR OF FISH!”

The tears evaporated and the room was dry. His finished idea bounced four times before it settled. He and she no longer sat in silence. The fluorescent lights hummed an unhealthy, sanitary hum.

I’m so sor-

Three days. He touched and pulled at the material of his shirt. The light polyester stuck to him, stuck at his armpits which were sweating and stuck at his heart which oozed soft slime. He pulled and twisted, pulled and twisted, trying to get his shirt in a comfortable position. Underneath the shirt, his bones, his muscles, his self twisted and pulled, twisted and pulled until he choked a bit from holding his breath and he stopped.

I loved you, you know.

“I know.”

I look at you and try to remember the face I fell in love with.

“I know.”

The strong jaw, the clear eyes, the high cheekbones.

“I know.”

Where is that now?

The fluorescent lights hummed and hummed in their unhealthy sanitary way.

“I loved you too.”

He saw her accept the gift.

Your poison acts fast.

Two breaths heaved up and down.

And then there was one.