Now and then I'll post a new bit of my short fiction.




The veins in the back of his hand, thick and twisted and shadowed blue. Move across the wrist past a gnarl of ancient broken bone. Advance along the forearm and a constellation of moles. Lost temporarily within a forest of grey hair. Reappear again at a swollen elbow. Flank the scar shaped like a wingless bird. Vanish beneath the sleeve of the shirt he threw on before storming out the door and after saying to her four absolutely unforgiveable words.