I have lost every hand, until now.
All my clothes are gone, because I threw them in. Then my skin. Then my bones.
Organ after organ.
My brain in a wet thump.
You smirk at me from across the table.
You have your own eyes, and you have mine too, somewhere in that pile of clothes and flesh.
But for all of that, you cannot see what I have.
These cards. This time.
As you continue smirking, I toss down my heart. It thumps between us, hot and bright.
Rachel Rodman’s work has appeared in Brilliant Flash Fiction, Frozen Wavelets, City. River. Tree., and many other publications.
Photo Credit: Taylor Simpson on Unsplash