Clicking the head of the lighter open and closed, Theo runs his mind around the two snakes entwined on her back just between her shoulder blades. A spiraling roller coaster of memory. Ending at the point where the serpents' mouths touch. Her kisses always filled with teeth. Hands. Pressure. Theo wants smoke. Burn it all down to the hinges.

Got any cigarettes?

'Til shakes her hands out of her pockets. Locks her grey eyes into his brain like wild animals find prey at night. She raises her arms above her head like a criminal. Rotates palms front to back.

Nope.

Chucks her shoes off and across the room. One by one. Crawls across the room. Leaving clothes like footprints in butter. Presses her mouth against his left ear.

I know I've told you that story already. Scar-words sometimes stick, and I have to say them again. Try to transfer the mark left on me, then, into you.