by John Welter
Janice put her hand on my cheek. “You are buried,” she said.
“Put on your black veil now and mourn for me.”
“Oh. That’s right,” she said, then reached into her bag and pulled out a little black hat with a black veil on it. She smiled as she put it on, and said “I’m mourning, now. Do I look nice?”
“You’re pretty. I’m glad I love you.”
She touched my cheek again, rubbing her fingertips along my skin. “Now that you’re buried, now that you’re immobile and helpless, what do you think you should do? Sink or sink?”
“It’s not a very good choice. I don’t believe in failure, no matter how many times I do it.”
She took the veil off and tossed it into the sand behind her as she stared at me and moved her face closer to mine. I wanted to hold her, but I couldn’t move.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I said.
“No. I’m going to suck your brains out through your ears,” she said quietly, laughing a little bit with her lips on mine.
Published by
Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Post Office Box 2225
Chapel Hill, North Carolina 27514-2225
a division of
Workman Publishing
225 Varick Street
New York, New York 10014
© 1992 by John Welter. All rights reserved.
Chapter one of this book was first published on the editorial page of the Kansas City Star, as a literary sketch.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
E-book ISBN 978-1-61620-235-4