“Just one,” he said.
“Five seconds, just once.”
She winced and bartered
for three.
“Just one,” he said.
“Three seconds, just once.
Then my dance is yours.”
But she knew his goal
all too well.
The deal behind their handshake,
not for face value.
She winced and counted to three.
She let go of herself,
dropping her exterior
like a piece of clothing.
Exhale.
How long had she been under water?
Holding her breath, waiting, and hating
herself.
Hating him.
She never knew it was possible
to kill yourself
with a deal like this.
