The Fool

I continued to squeeze long after it served any real purpose other than to illustrate just how much I loathed her; long after I could hear any sound other than my own frantic breathing and that of my heart pounding in my ears; long after the blood was tickling my taut fingers as it trickled down my arms; long after it was obvious to everyone else that she was dead. But that did not matter to me; I wasn’t even aware that her body had gone slack and that I was the only thing supporting her slight frame. All I could think about, replaying over and over in my mind, was the time we were laying in bed and she told me she’d be a fool to say no if I asked her to marry me. Of course, she did say no, so I suppose that makes her the fool. The faint sound of sirens were audible from somewhere outside the restaurant.

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