Page 88 of Molt

“Do it before I disappear anyway.”

She screams and swings.

The memory cuts before impact.

But I know. I remember waking again days later. My skull whole. The room empty with her wedding ring sitting beside my bed.

1944

War.

Blackout curtains. Sirens.

Lenora this time is called Anna.

She smokes even though I hate it. She wears my shirt, sleeps with a pistol beneath the pillow.

We have promised each other there will be no touching. No kissing. Nothing that could strengthen whatever exists between us.

We last eight days.

On the ninth, bombs fall.

The building shakes. Glass explodes. Anna screams.

I find her beneath the table. I drag her against me.

She wraps herself around my body. “If we’re going to die, I’m not dying without you.”

“We’re not dying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Liar.”

“Yes.”

She kisses me while London burns.

I remember thinking…If this is the end, let it be hers.

The memory changes.

Months later. Her body is almost finished. Half her hair has darkened to match mine. Her left eye is my color. Her fingers carry my scars. She sits beside me on a mattress.

I’m weak–so fucking weak.

She has a pistol in her lap. “Which one of us?”

I know what she means.

“We don’t know if it works.”

“One of us has to try.”

“I’ll do it.”