I hear it: the snap of your knife opening.  I picture your wrist flick hard to flip up the blade.  Again:

SNAP.

You’re playing with it, toying with ideas.  You like the power it bestows you.  You like how I become mesmerized, tensely attuned to your movement.  But you are in the other room, I can only hear you.

SNAP……………….…… SNAP……………….…… SNAP.

Then silence.  I let out the breath I didn’t notice I was holding and take in my environment.  The pale evening light catches the dust in the air.  The room is cool.  I close my eyes and sigh, allowing my shoulders to relax and my head to drop slightly forward.

SNAP.

I jolt up in rigid attention: you are directly behind me, a hand suddenly gripping my shoulder.  I feel your blade on my cheek; I close my eyes and force a breath.  I can feel your malicious grin:

“Good evening lovely.”

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