The rocks beneath David’s feet felt like daggers — daggers that belonged in his heart. The smell of his mother’s spice garden enveloped him in a sense of calm he inscribed in his skin, if only to ignore the truth in the marrow of his bones. Does she know how…

“I can help you.” The voice in the darkness was a shock, though not much could startle me anymore. Not after I had unlocked some macabre and satisfying piece of me. The voice belonged to a creature of the night, a soft-footed being of shadow. I was on my knees…

My memories coat my hands in ice and permeate my waking air with a metallic scent. I killed someone. Nobody blamed me. I don’t either. Still, endless nights spirit me away to the year-old scene. My roommates — the third in two months — are tired. I will move again soon. Maybe I’ll stop one day. Just like mother did. Maybe we’ll meet again. Then, I can apologize. But until then, I will continue in my selective realism, living a carefully curated life of lies and truths.