Her hips have grown hands. They reach out to me through the thin fabric of her shirt. As we embrace they collide with my own; bone on bone. She is slimmer than before, her body screams out to me. Her Cheshire-cat grin turns my heart upside down and I smile back with my heart on my lips. She leaps up the stairs on fast-forward. As she reaches the top step the tape of my memory begins to jump and flicker.
The scene flips. She’s falling, flying down the stairs she danced up a moment before, hair whirling. That smell of soap and bananas making my mouth water making me retch. I spit my heart out onto the floor.
I lift her shirt to find a beat but there is nothing. A hole, the shape of a key. Her hips are blades, peel back the skin from my frantic fingertips. Her feet are shapeless; blistered and contorted beyond recognition. Beneath her knotted hair, her face is losing its colour. It is shrinking, the chin becoming pointed. When her mouth opens to scream, it is with the lips and teeth of someone else’s memory.