PEARL

"There are times when I remember the way it felt to slide my hands across the cool surface of the counter. All marbled and shiny.

It was some kind of hard stone that seemed to pulse and jump as if the swirling pink lines were real veins. The kind that are filled with blood and work in that thick thump, thump, thump to just pump, pump, pump the blood straight to a human heart.

I’d lift myself up onto the counter and swing my legs up too. I’d sit against the cold, cold stone, and sometimes do nothing more than just that. Sometimes I’d make a sandwich. Or just watch him as he made one. Truthfully it was almost all of the time that we did nothing at all. There were no words for us to say, so what was the point? We’d already been through it all, and all between us was through. It was just through. I’d sit and feel the veins of that kitchen countertop pumping and throbbing beneath me. I’d feel them twisting. I could feel the rush of life through it, I swear. It was so loud I could almost hear it.

It was the only thing left alive anymore in that house."