❝ how much can you change
before you turn into someone else?
before it's some kind of murder? ❞

― Richard Siken

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⤚ an excerpt ⤙

SINCLAIR

     I'm sitting on the floor across from Alexei, and even at this distance I can smell his smoky, peppery scent. If I could get high off of it, I'd be Snoop Doggy Dog right about now. I try not to think about the things I would've done in life to keep breathing his air.

     I tap my fingers on the floor, amazed by my ability to create real sound. Alexei is unimpressed. Always unimpressed like he'll one day win an award for being so immovable.

    The room's dark, curtains drawn like always, and Alexei's a flame pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to his chest. His face has thinned since the last time I thought about it. Weight falls off his frame like a snake shedding skin. There and then suddenly gone.

     Alexei is unmoving, gaze unwavering, even though I know he's tiring of my tapping. We're in one of our ineffable standoffs, staring each other down like if looks could kill we'd use our bated breaths to stoke the fire.

      All night Alexei has been saying go. And all night I've had this feeling if I leave now I may not be able to come back. So I stay. I'm staying.

     I harden my expression and repeat, "I'm staying" for the fifth time, maybe sixth. Who knows. I'm constantly repeating myself with him, the stubborn prick. Alexei rolls his eyes and flips me off. Nothing about it is new. We've had these exchanges plenty.

     I raise my hand to my mouth and blow him a kiss. Earn myself another eye roll. I'm starting to live for them. As much as any dead person can live for something, I suppose.

     Although, this is pretty new for us, actually. The sitting on the floor like two toddlers getting ready to pass a ball back and forth. Alexei should be in bed. It's past his bedtime.

     I don't have a bedtime, Alexei would snap.

     Do you not go to bed at the same time every night? I had asked once. That's a bedtime.

     Infuriating. Utterly obnoxious. No, actually just noxious. You are a noxious fume, that's what you are, Clair.

     I don't really have a body, so I don't really have a mind, but despite that, I'm able to, with uncanny accuracy, capture Alexei's voice in my head. Know exactly how the boy would insult me. Knows exactly when he'd drop the sin in my name.

     What I don't know, though, is Alexei's next move. Never know his next move. Am punted into an adjacent existence when Alexei opens his legs for me like an invitation. No, it's definitely an invitation, and a dare, maybe, too. Alexei lifts his head, lets it fall back against the wall as he looks down his nose at me.

     And I, well I've decided I'm nothing but a god damn moth, sliding across the floor towards him. My shins warm with friction and I've forgotten what it feels like to burn, forgotten what it feels like to feel. Seems like I'm always forgetting and every time Alexei reminds me it's like a new discovery. Ah yes, that's what a warm breath feels like.

     I crawl between Alexei's legs slowly, like any sudden movements might tear at the frame of this moment. Whatever tether I've created between life and death, I hope it holds a little longer, long enough to see me through whatever's about to happen. And by the way Alexei's gaze is starting to smolder, I think that something is going to be pretty damn good.