From the mid-joints in they've been reduced to...mush. I feel no pain. I wonder how this will make the drinks taste. My ex, I discover, is covered in ...sh. Soot. There's a break however between the bulgy flesh below her navel and her dark triangular bush. I finger her in the kitchen. She's wet. Her wetness is thick, viscous; like molasses. She moans. People are watching. We're in a public park, by a tree. The backs of my hands are sooty.It's not my wife, it's our adult daughter. She's naked. Her. The soft hiss in the air, that bubbly music as raindrops hit the ground or puddles. I suppose I should have felt blessed by my heightened sense of smell, at least the fresh wetness was more apparent. The darkened sky matched my mood as melancholia took hold.The flashing strobe of my doorbell startled me; I still wasn’t used to it. I thought about ignoring it then decided even an annoying interruption would be marginally welcome. I slowly opened the door. Emma stood there, raindrops in her hair. More

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