“I’ll go first.”  He took a deep breath and adjusted his collar.  His jaw flexed while he exhaled.

“Okay,” she said, not looking up.

He didn't think she believed him.  He balled little hands into tiny, shaking fists.  Untrimmed nails dug into his palms.
A static tickle wove its way between the fibers of the too-big socks on his feet as he crossed the room.

Inside a drawer.

Beneath silk and lace.

A small, handled storm.  Six capsules of lightning.

“Okay.”  It was heavy in his hands.  Tiny fingers against the handle and trigger.  Lips closed around a cold, silver barrel.

“Yeah,” she still sat there, across the room.  Didn't look up or over.

His tiny fingers pressed against the pull and flew away.  No more mouth.  No more mind.

She stood up.  “Okay.  My turn.”

1 comment: