“Tell me if it burns” you said “Not after this” is what I want to say. No, never.
But my mouth hasn’t moved. 46, 47, 48. The seconds crawl like my skin I haven’t spoken for almost a minute. I smile, the curve of my lips put you at ease. Good.
“No, not at all.” Your hand inches forward, fingers slim like sharpened knives I am reminded of my mother’s favourite kitchen set.