Slip it In (an excerpt)

by Myfanwy Collins

We are going to wait for two strangers to scratch at our nighty-night windows. Wait for their white faces to show up in our dark rooms. Wait for them to poke their fingery eyes at us.

To repeat: Strangers will come and watch and poke—their eyes like salt, like fire. And there will be a knife behind the big one’s back when he knocks at the door, but we won’t see it. Won’t even know that it’s there.

But this fear is not a living thing, not a breathing thing. It is only us and these strangers who live and who breathe. That is it. That is all.

read this piece in its entirety Smokelong Quarterly

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