suspension

I felt her arms circle my waist from miles away. The disconnect between my head and my body at times like this was astounding. I didn't hug her back.

She sighed, breathing hot air on my chest. She smelled... off. Like milk you don't realize is spoiled until after you've taken that first giant sip. Her lavender perfume masked the smell, barely, and her hair tickled my nose.

"I love you... so much..." She adjusted her grip on the knife handle. The edge of the blade made a slight impression in the back of my shirt, but I was already thinking I could feel the cuts. "Do you know that?" She looked up at me.

I nodded. "Yes, I know."

She nodded too. "Then you understand why it has to be like this, don't you?"

I didn't answer.

"I don't think I could go on without you," she told me. "And I'd rather die before I let any other woman have you." Her empty hand clutched at my shirt. I felt another wave of panic rise up from the pit of my stomach and try to force my heart out of my mouth. I swallowed and gave her a level stare.

"We can work this out," I said to her, stroking her face.

She shook her head. I felt her arms fall away from me and it felt like the floor dropped out too, leaving me suspended in the air with nowhere to run.

I couldn't look at the knife. Wouldn't look at the knife.

"No, we can't work this out... Goodbye, Jonathan."