The raw taste of blood and metal filled my mouth.
I leaned left into the frosty wind
blowing the tails of my jacket,
my scarf,
and the tassels of my hoodie.
The cold crept through the seams of my shoes and chilled my toes.
I plunged my hand
into my front pocket
in search of my chapstick.
No chapstick.
“Damn.”
I needed some chapstick.
My eyes were leaking.
I spit red in the crunchy grass.
My car was about half a mile down the street
But it was out of gas,
and broken down.
I tried to scrape his skin from under my fingernails
but it wouldn’t come out.
My hands felt stained from fighting back.
I wondered if his hands felt stained?
I heard the screen door slam behind me.
I didn’t turn around to see him,
I just listened to the gunshot.
