The last face I see before my life is choked out of me is my lover’s face. My god, what a goddamn coward he is. He doesn’t even look me in the eye when he wrings my neck hard with his gloved hands as if it’s a wet, dirty rag. How did I ever think that he’s a hopeless romantic?
I asked him once how’d he feel, if suddenly I stopped seeing him.
“Devastated,” he answered with a kiss.
I was truly touched. I thought back then I snatched the man I dreamt of spending the rest of my life with, though he had already made vows to another woman under God. What had mattered to me was that he loved me, and we were going to have a life together one day after he serve his wife the divorce papers. He sealed that promise with a blue sapphire ring.
But he isn’t devastated once the flame of life in me is extinguished. Instead, he looks relieved. He cries into his hands, then starts to cackle.