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B t V S / A t S
C H U N K Y M O N K E Y
She watches him from the doorway. She’s laid him out
on the sofa, tucked him in blankets and cleared out the Potentials. Snuggled him
up in front of the TV with a tub of Chunky Monkey ice cream - anything he wants.
He’s sore from his ordeal with the First, but she’s not pampering him.
It’s over.
His movements are stiff and awkward as he eats. His
tongue curls around the spoon, icy from the tub. She remembers other times, with
his tongue in other places; refreshingly cool against her hot, flushed and
swollen skin.
She’s the one who shivers.
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